


Sea Change

by storm_of_sharp_things



Series: Hidden World [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Human/Monster Romance, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kinbaku, Kinda Crack, Light Bondage, Love Story, M/M, Mild D/s Play, Really it’s almost completely sweetness and fluff, Saito is a dragon, Supernatural Creatures, but a little not, merman eames, no actual penetrative dragon sex y'all sorry, no really it's mostly crack, with just a bit of absolutely consensual rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 21:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20936693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: Here's Eames as a part-time merman, and a bunch of bad-ass Japanese supernatural beings, and Arthur being Arthur just as hard as he can whilst being drowned in dubiously consensual cuddles.





	Sea Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxtales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtales/gifts).

> _Now with amazing artwork from [TheMonsterForge](https://twitter.com/TheForgess)!  
(Full image embedded at the appropriate place in the story)  
_
> 
> * * *
> 
> ::sighs::  
This.  
This monstrosity…  
…was supposed to be two or three or four thousand words of monsterfucker crack as a birthday gift for my sister [foxtales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtales), not…whatever this 43,000-word behemoth of a maybe-crack-adjacent story turned out to be, besides late for fox’s birthday, and probably the start of an entire AU series, because now I read folklore from all over the world and think, huh, I could work that in as WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THIS HEAD-THING OF MINE PLEASE TO MAKE IT STOP I BLAME YOU ENTIRELY FOX ESPECIALLY SINCE THIS ONE ABSOLUTELY IS YOUR FAULT AND DON'T EVEN MENTION LOKI AND RIDDICK…ahem…anyway…
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Nothing of him that doth fade,  
But doth suffer a sea-change  
Into something rich and strange._
> 
> "Ariel’s Song”  
_The Tempest_  
William Shakespeare
> 
> * * *

They had known each other for nine years and had been together for four before Arthur realized he had never seen Eames in salt water. Oh, he swam like the proverbial fish, but only in pools, or lakes, or far enough up rivers that the water wasn't even remotely brackish.

Arthur curled into a corner of the leather sofa and pulled a soft woven throw around himself. The window wall of their Seattle condo looked out over Elliott Bay and Puget Sound and the silvery morning mists were just beginning to turn golden as the sun rose higher and set them alight.

Arthur had done jobs with him in coastal cities, and even on larger islands. He'd seen Eames strut enough on beaches to distract or attract marks. They'd drunk colorful cocktails with improbable names on loungers under palm trees and argued about Leonardo da Vinci’s influence on the Medici court until they were incoherent and laughing under a balmy moonlit sky.

They'd even escaped from a cruise ship in the Mediterranean once by stealing one of the launches. At the time, Arthur had attributed Eames’ tension and temper to the gunshot wound to his thigh. He'd huddled in the center of the open launch, wrapped in a tarp, and flinched every time spray came over the gunwale. Afterwards, he'd insisted on spending his recovery in a tiny rustic cabin Arthur had never known about, high in the Swiss Alps, almost as landlocked as you could reasonably get.

The morning fog was lifting over the bay enough to clearly make out the ferries running between Seattle and Bainbridge Island, and the ones that went further to Bremerton on the peninsula. Arthur knew Eames was scheduled to arrive on the one just about to dock at the ferry terminal. Once off the ferry, it would take him less than ten minutes to walk home. Arthur got up to start the coffee maker, then returned to the sofa, scowling absently out at the Sound as he waited and listened for the sound of Eames’ key in the lock.

Eames’ avoidance of the sea had extended into dreaming, as well, though it had been subtle enough that Arthur was just now realizing it. Now that he was thinking about it. Now that he had done the research and put together enough data to understand that, although he thought he knew Eames better than anyone else in dreamshare, there were _two_ mysteries about him that he had never even fathomed, much less resolved.

One was this well-concealed aversion to salt water.

The other was much more pressing and personally disturbing to Arthur; Eames would turn thirty-five in less than a week. And if he followed the pattern Arthur had discovered, he would disappear for a year, with no evidence of him whatsoever to be found. As he had done when he was twenty-eight, after a legendary art heist. And before that, when he was twenty-one and his spec ops team had assumed him dead. And at fourteen, when his short-term foster family had reported him a runaway. Eames had entered the foster care system in England at an estimated eight years old and Arthur had found no reliable records on him earlier than that. He had no idea what the significance of a seven-year cycle meant but he was deeply unsettled by his inability to turn up any trace of him during those missing seventh years.

The coffee maker had just hissed through the last of its brew cycle when the door lock turned and Eames strode in, toeing his shoes off and then tossing his bag onto a chair to come straight to the sofa. He leaned over the back, took Arthur's chin in a gentle hand, and tilted his face up for a lingering kiss.

Then he inhaled deeply and grinned. “Fresh coffee! You know me so well, darling. Shall I make you a cup as well?”

“If you would,” Arthur murmured.

Eames hummed to himself as he moved about the kitchen, pouring cream into both cups and adding a little sugar for himself, then pouring the coffee over the cream. Arthur smiled slightly, recalling the first time Eames had taken him to task for pouring milk into a cup of hot tea. _Milk first_, he'd insisted, _or you get a skin on top of your tea and who wants that_? And he was just as adamant about cream and coffee.

Eames brought both cups over and set them on the coffee table before nudging Arthur out of the corner of the sofa and taking his place, then tugging Arthur back to settle between his legs. “Not to be pushy, love,” he purred against Arthur's jawline. “I just want you where I want you this fine damp morning.”

He pushed a hand under Arthur's shirt to rub his stomach absentmindedly in a way that he _knew_ drove Arthur to utter distraction, and Arthur tried to relax back against him as Eames reached for his coffee, taking a sip and sighing in pleasure. His enjoyment was so obvious that Arthur had to wait until he'd savored it to the dregs and set the cup down for the last time.

“All right, my darling,” Eames said, nestling the tip of his nose behind Arthur's ear. “You've waited so patiently, now out with it. What's got you so pensive this morning?”

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” Arthur asked quietly.

“Hmm. I thought we'd go to Japan,” Eames said. “Maybe drop in on Saito; as one does, you know. How does that sound?”

Arthur felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “You just want to go to some of those theme bars and clubs in Tokyo.”

Eames laughed. “There's a ninja bar and a robot club! And tell me you wouldn't enjoy spending a few hours in a cat cafe.”

“Eames…”

“Arthur…” he mocked gently. “It's entirely unlike you to avoid a question.”

“I haven't been able to figure out a way to say it that doesn't sound entirely selfish.”

“Hmm, that's a tad ominous. Consider me forewarned, love, now out with it.” He kissed along the side of Arthur’s throat, both hands now splayed over Arthur's stomach, stroking lightly.

Arthur bit his lip, not wanting to disturb the familiar rhythm of arousal rising between them, but if multiple years of a relationship with Eames had taught him anything, it was that clear communication was a necessity.

“I don't want to spend a year without you,” he said with a calm he didn't feel.

Eames went so still behind him, Arthur almost wanted to check for a pulse. Then he exhaled gustily and leaned his head back against the couch. “Bloody point man,” he muttered. “What I get for falling in love with the best. I was only gone two days.”

Arthur waited, trying to keep his breathing deep and even, trying to stay relaxed where he lay against Eames.

“Arthur, I can _feel_ you being all stoical. Stop that and turn around here.” Eames sounded wry and Arthur turned his head, just able to see the crooked smile that meant reluctant amusement.

He sat up and turned around, kneeling on the sofa between Eames’ thighs, hands braced on the broad chest. Eames tucked his hands behind his head and stared at Arthur thoughtfully.

“It's only one year out of seven,” he said slowly. “Are you sure you can't accept that and let things lay that would be better undisturbed?”

Arthur barked a laugh. “Are you going to tell me not to go into the locked room down the hall where you secretly keep the bodies of your nosy former wives?”

Eames grinned at him, eyes twinkling. “Can't hide a thing from you, can I?”

“No.” Arthur looked down at his hands on Eames’ chest, then traced his gaze up to his quirked mouth and leaned in for a slow lingering kiss. Settling back, he met Eames’ beautiful changeable eyes, blue and green and grey with flecks of copper. “But you can tell me not to ask.”

Eames sighed and reached out to stroke Arthur's mouth. “And thereby poison everything between us.”

Arthur closed his eyes and took Eames’ fingers into his mouth, flicking his tongue between and around them, sucking until Eames made a deep sound in his throat and pulled him down.

“I promise to tell you,” Eames growled against his mouth between kisses and bites. “Can you wait until we get to Japan?”

“Are we leaving tomorrow?”

Eames laughed and shoved him off. “Bedroom, darling. It was a long boat ride waiting to get between those creamy thighs.”

Arthur stared at him incredulously, his lip curling. “‘Creamy thighs?’”

“Well, admit it, you don't get out in the sun much, my love…”

“The sun’s going to see more of me than you will.”

Eames blinked. “You're not…withholding sex, are you?”

Arthur gave him a second incredulous look. “No, you idiot. I'm going to blindfold you and tie you down.”

Eames grinned. “You really need to work on your communication skills, pet,” he said and kissed Arthur's scowl away.

Arthur led Eames into the bedroom, making him stop in the middle of the room. “Strip,” he ordered. “Just this once, you can toss your clothes on the floor,” he added with a faint smile.

“Shall I make a show of it?” Eames said with a smirk as he pushed his hips forward where he stood, playing with the button of his jeans.

“As you like,” Arthur replied, putting an indifference he didn't feel into his reply. He turned to the beautiful antique tansu cabinet in the corner, making sure Eames couldn't see the hungry anticipation he knew was written all over his face. They often played at dominance and submission, trading off roles as they mood suited them, but just occasionally Arthur wanted, needed, to immerse them fully, controlling everything. Especially now, knowing this might be the last time, at least for quite a while, that they had this opportunity.

When he opened the drawer that held the restraints, he heard Eames inhale sharply behind him. “Oh pet, I didn't take you seriously enough.” The corner of Arthur's mouth tucked up as he heard the rapid removal of clothing, and then Eames, wonder of wonders, padded over to deposit his clothing in the hamper.

When Arthur turned with the blindfold in hand, Eames was already naked and kneeling on the thick rug, facing Arthur’s favorite armchair, watching with an anticipatory smile. Arthur stepped close to stand in front of him and Eames raised his hands to take Arthur’s, bringing them each to his mouth for a kiss as he let his eyes flutter closed. Then he settled his hands at the small of his back and lifted his chin, eyes still closed, waiting.

Arthur caressed his face, leaning down to lightly brush a kiss over Eames’ provocative mouth, and buckled the soft-lined leather blindfold over his eyes, smoothing it carefully into place. “Kneel up,” he murmured.

Eames came up to his knees, lips parted as his breath changed to a faster rhythm, tension making his stomach muscles tighten. Eames was no more inherently submissive than Arthur was, and the edge that brought to their play was exquisite to Arthur.

He sat in the chair, on the edge, to lean forward and run his fingertips over Eames’ stomach, stroking over the smooth ridges that rippled under his touch. Eames’ mouth fell open to moan softly as he swayed back.

Arthur bit his lip thoughtfully as he took in the beautiful line of Eames’ body. “Eames. Spread your knees apart. Further. Good. Now lean back and hold on to your ankles. God, yes, you're gorgeous like that.”

Eames let his head fall back and made a beautiful arc from throat to knee, cock hard and curving up, tip already wet under the foreskin. He was chewing his bottom lip and breathing harder, pushing his hips forward.

Arthur reverently trailed his fingers down the front of Eames’ body, from collarbones to hips, then leaned to take a nipple in his mouth. He sucked lightly, waiting for Eames to inhale, then closed his teeth over it in a rough nip.

Eames grunted, his hips twitching. “Arthur…”

Arthur ran his tongue over the nipple to soothe him and bit down again, then gently sucked. When he leaned back, he brushed his thumb over it, comparing it to the other.

“Arthur, please…”

“You're so beautiful, Eames.” He leaned forward to kiss his other nipple, letting Eames breathe in with anticipation, but waiting until he'd started to breathe out before biting. Eames’ exhalation ended with a groan as he tried to press his chest forward without letting go of his ankles, the backward bend of his body deepening. Arthur soothed the bite and sucked, then scratched gently at both sensitive nubs with his thumbnails.

Eames’ cock was leaking and Arthur ran a finger over the head to gather up some of the pre-ejaculate, licking it off his finger as Eames’ hips jerked reflexively.

“Oh god, Arthur. I can't…”

“Shh. You can. Wait here a moment.” Arthur got up, brushing past Eames as he returned to the tansu. He took out the leather cuffs for ankles and wrists and tossed them onto the bed, watching Eames shiver as he registered the noise. The chains he took over and secured to the four corners of the sturdy bed frame, making enough noise that Eames couldn't mistake their presence. He returned to the tansu for lube and a cock strap before coming back to sit in the chair.

Eames was panting a little, his hips pressing forward and back, his thighs trembling slightly. He cried out when Arthur gathered up his cock and balls unexpectedly. Arthur briskly snapped the strap into place snugly behind his balls, and then held Eames by the hips as he shuddered.

“Shh. Just a reminder for you,” Arthur murmured, rubbing his thumbs in circles over the front of Eames’ hips. He slid his hands behind Eames, up his back, and pulled gently, supporting him. “Straighten up for me now, that's it.” He let Eames rest upright on his knees for a moment, head against Arthur's shoulder, then pushed him down to kneel fully. “Knees together. Hands clasped at the back of your neck. Back straight. Yes, beautiful. Open your mouth for me.”

Arthur ran his thumbs over Eames’ lips, loving the way his tongue flickered out to touch him. “I'm going to play with your mouth first.”

Eames’ breath hitched and he made an eager noise in his throat.

Arthur smiled and let his hands slip down to pinch repeatedly at Eames’ nipples, savoring his open-mouthed moans. “Then I'm going to turn you over on the rug and come in you. And then I'm going to put you on the bed, restrain you, and ride you until I'm ready to come again. And you will wait for me to tell you when you are allowed to come.”

He stood up as Eames whimpered, slipped out of his jeans and briefs, tossing them aside, and pulled off his t-shirt as well. He stepped in to straddle Eames’ kneeling legs, and placed the head of his erect cock in Eames’ open mouth, resting on his tongue.

“Just hold it there for a moment,” he said softly as saliva gathered in Eames’ mouth. “You are so perfect, so good for me. I'm right on the edge of control, Eames, you make me want to fuck right into your throat.”

He cupped his hands around Eames’ face as Eames whined, thumbs petting at the edges of his mouth, tilting his head back a little.

“God, you're perfect, I can't wait. Open for me.” He pushed in slowly, keeping himself shallow, testing Eames’ depth. Eames leaned into him, trying to take him deeper, and Arthur grunted as he closed those lips around him, sucking hard and working his tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, that's so good…your _mouth_, Eames…”

He moaned around Arthur's cock, and Arthur pulled away quickly, cursing and concentrating on not coming. Eames settled back on his heels, hands still clasped at the back of his neck, head dropping forward a bit. He was shivering with want and need, but Arthur still caught the flash of a pleased smile before he put it away.

Arthur took several deep breaths as he walked a slow circle around Eames, who tensed a bit as Arthur let the silence stretch out.

“Arthur?” he whispered.

“Mmm?”

“Arthur, please.”

He stopped directly behind Eames, laying his hands on Eames’ shoulders and encouraging him to lean back against his thighs. Eames tilted his head back to touch Arthur's stomach, offering his throat, his hair soft and tousled, tickling against Arthur's bare skin. Arthur wrapped one hand around the front of his throat, squeezing gently, the other tracing a scar beneath Eames’ collarbone that Arthur knew was still sensitive. Eames shivered under his touch, blindfolded and trained to violence as they both were, and then all tension drained away from him as he consciously gave himself over to Arthur.

Arthur caught his breath at the trust in that yielding. “Tell me what you want.”

Eames smiled, relaxed under his hands. “I want you to fuck me,” he replied easily. “I want you to come deep in me, claim me as yours. I want to feel you lose control and know that it's because of me.”

Arthur felt a shudder roll through him and his hand closed around Eames’ throat convulsively. He let go and stepped back.

“Down for me,” he snapped, and Eames twisted himself onto his hands and knees, then stretched forward and laid his head on his forearms and spread his knees wider, ass high in the air.

Arthur dropped to his knees behind him, slicking his fingers fast and pushing one into Eames to spread the lube. He moaned but opened beautifully and Arthur slipped a second in, curving them gently to find and lightly brush his prostate.

“_Arthur!_ Oh god, Arthur, just _fuck_ me please!”

He bared his teeth and twisted his slick hand around his own cock, then took it and pressed the head to Eames’ entrance, holding himself there, his other hand curving around Eames’ hip.

“C’mon Eames, you want it that badly, come and take it. Push back, that's right, take me inside. God, you should see yourself opening for me, you’re just sucking me in, so soft, god, so fucking hot around me…”

Eames pushed slowly and steadily back, every exhale forced out as a little breathy moan, impaling himself on Arthur’s cock until they were pressed together, skin to skin.

Arthur clenched his jaw and held himself to tiny rocking motions until Eames shifted his hips and then Arthur pulled back and shoved in, holding him and driving him hard over and over, until Arthur suddenly came with a choked cry, thrusting through his orgasm as he spilled deep inside Eames. He didn't draw himself out until he was going soft and Eames was slumping under him.

“So good,” he whispered, a hand on Eames’ spine to hold him in place. “So magnificent, Eames, hold still, hold it all inside, there's one more thing…”

He quickly went back to the tansu for a plug, slicking it and touching it to Eames’ entrance, laughing softly as Eames’ head lifted, turning from side to side as if he could see through the blindfold. “Shh, take this in for me, just like that.”

He worked it in slowly, Eames moaning wildly as he stretched around the widest part. “That's it, fuck, look at you Eames, you know you're amazing.”

“Oh god, Arthur, Arthur, I need you, please, please…” Eames was writhing on his knees under Arthur’s hand on the small of his back.

“I know you do, come on, up, here's my hand. Let's get you on the bed.”

Arthur helped him to the bed, had him crawl on hands and knees to the middle, and then nudged him to roll onto his back. Eames was chewing on his bottom lip as he settled, his hips twitching as the plug shifted.

“There now, just breathe for me, straighten out.” Arthur stroked along his arms, rubbing them and laying them out toward the corner posts of the bed. He knelt on the bed and buckled the first wrist cuff on, attaching the chain and adjusting it taut. Then he moved to the other arm and did the same, leaving Eames’ arms stretched out to the bedposts.

Eames was beginning to breathe more deeply, relaxing into the bed as Arthur took his time securing him, and Arthur leaned over and kissed him tenderly, sucking Eames’ lower lip into his mouth and running his tongue along the swollen edge.

“I'm going to take the cock strap off, Eames,” he murmured. “And then I'll secure your legs. You're doing fine, you'll hold on for me.”

Eames nodded, breathing out slowly. Arthur laid one hand on his thigh and unsnapped the strap without touching the rest of his cock or testicles. Eames gasped and arched up from the bed, thrusting into the air. Arthur held his thighs and pressed him down firmly again and, after a moment of holding his breath and shuddering, Eames let himself collapse back onto the bed. “I'm so close,” he whispered.

“I know,” Arthur soothed, petting his thighs. “You’ll be fine, you're always good for me like this.”

Eames nodded, biting his lips together. “When…” He took a deep shaky breath. “When you're riding me, I want to see. Will you let me watch you?”

Arthur smiled, knowing Eames would hear it in his voice. “Yes, I'll take off the blindfold for that. You've been so wonderful, so perfect. Of course I'll do that for you.”

Eames nodded again, stretching his legs out and waiting for Arthur to bind him. Arthur felt his cock twitch, still too soon, but Eames was just so damn tempting like this, giving him control. This was one of the most dangerous men he knew, fully as lethal as Arthur himself, if not more so, rendering himself helpless at Arthur's hands.

He buckled on the ankle cuffs lovingly, lingering with his knuckles rubbing hard against the soles of Eames’ feet, massaging away a little of the strain that edging always brought. Then he chained each ankle cuff to a bed post and drew the chains taut, leaving Eames’ legs straight and stretched a bit, preventing him from either opening or closing them.

He stood for a moment, just taking in the absolute magnificence of Eames spread out on the bed, restrained and hard and leaking, utterly at his mercy, but also willing and waiting for him. He tugged on himself roughly, feeling the arousal coiling in his belly again.

Eames licked his lips at the slippery sounds of Arthur's hand on his own cock and that sent a surge up Arthur's spine, his cock slowly beginning to harden and rise.

“Be right back.” He slipped quietly out to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of water and a straw. Eames turned his head to follow Arthur's progress, smiling when he heard the cap being twisted off. He opened his mouth for the straw, sucking slowly and swallowing carefully. When he'd had enough, he let the straw fall from his lips.

“Arthur,” he murmured. Arthur leaned over him and kissed him again, a kiss to get lost in, lazy, their tongues moving against each other slowly, stroking and teasing.

Eames made a discontented noise when Arthur moved away, and he leaned back in to whisper against Eames’ mouth. “Just listen.”

He went back to his chair and sprawled in it, laying one leg over the arm. When he slicked his fingers, reaching down to push them into himself, the obscene slippery noises combined with the stretch drew a breathy moan from him. He twisted them, shifting them to make more slick sounds as he worked them deeper. His other hand tugged at his testicles, fondling himself as he worked back to hardness, watching Eames start to writhe on the bed, hips moving as if seeking him. It wasn't possible to completely immobilize a human body without full body restraints, and even then there would be some shifting, but Eames’ slow gyrations made him seem boneless, as if the restraints were a mere courtesy.

“Arthur…” Eames whispered. “Please…”

He pulled his fingers out with a wet sound and a grunt, wrapping his hand around his cock and dragging it tightly along the length, working his fingers to make more wet noises as he stared at Eames hungrily.

Arthur couldn't take his eyes off him, the slow movements suggestive and lewd in a way even the very best porn couldn't quite manage. It was intensely private, the way the slight parting of his knees and thighs offered a glimpse of the base of the plug that sealed Arthur's claim inside Eames, the rolling lift of his hips, the combined hunger and offer of his hard wet cock, soon to be buried deep in Arthur. The shifts of the strong muscles in his thighs, the ripple of his stomach, the vulnerable line of his throat as Eames tossed his head back, biting his lips and then licking them helplessly.

A blindfold, when he wore one, gave Arthur the opportunity to forget about vision, to stop thinking about how he looked as he moved and reacted. Not that he was so self-conscious normally, but it gave him an utter unselfconsciousness about the visual aspect of his physicality during sex.

But Eames…Arthur licked his own lips in a visceral response, his cock fully hard and ready. Eames was _displaying_ himself, pleading with his body, summoning Arthur with all of his knowledge of Arthur's desires and cravings, and none of it was really done consciously, with calculation. Eames wasn't performing; he had slipped beyond words and thoughts, was simply begging for Arthur with his entire body.

It was a siren call Arthur had no power to refuse and he rose from the chair as if pulled by strings. He detoured just long enough to draw the curtains across the windows, dimming the room to protect Eames' eyes, but he never took his gaze off him and, as the bed shifted, Eames’ entire body tried to turn in his direction, pulling at the restraints carelessly, seeking Arthur just as strongly.

Arthur slid astride his stomach, enjoying the spread of his thighs, and curled down to kiss him, wet and sloppy, fingers lingering along the edges of the leather blindfold. Eames lifted his head to strain up into the kiss and Arthur unbuckled the blindfold, tossing it off the bed and smoothing his fingers over Eames’ eyelids, stroking into his hair and taking a grip there, holding Eames’ head up while he devoured his mouth.

When they were both breathless, Arthur almost dizzy with it, he let go and pushed himself back along Eames’ body, both of them making an incoherent noise as their cocks slid against each other. Arthur knelt over Eames’ hips, hooked the tops of his feet over Eames’ thighs, knees still on the bed, and, when Eames surged up in an attempt at a thrust, the motion lifted Arthur with him, maintaining the distance between them.

Arthur laughed roughly as Eames’ eyes flew open and stared in wild betrayal down his body.

“Still in charge,” Arthur whispered as he reached behind himself to grasp Eames’ cock and lower himself onto it. “_Fuck_…”

He'd slicked himself thoroughly, enough to take Eames in with the perfect amount of friction, and he spread his knees wider as he leaned back on one hand, the other coming around to gather up his balls, giving Eames a view of Arthur stretching around him as Eames’ ruddy length slowly disappeared up into him.

When Arthur finally came to rest, panting, backside pressed to the soft skin of Eames’s hips, Eames was staring at him, wide-eyed, mouth working with no sound. Arthur leaned forward to rest his hands on Eames’ chest.

“Shh, it's all right,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Almost there, just hold on for me. You can do that, I know you can.”

Eames shuddered hard under him, eyes squeezing shut for a moment, then flashing open again as Arthur straightened, rolling his hips, rising up a little and sinking back down.

“Oh fuck, Eames, you feel so _good_ in me.” Arthur wrapped a hand around his own cock and twisted, not wanting to drag out the orgasm he could feel coiling up tightly at the base of his spine. He leaned back again, feeling Eames’ cock nudge his prostate every time he dropped down, and his breath caught with every shock of pleasure. He sped the friction of his hand, sped his tidal surges up and down Eames’s cock, wanting his climax to hit like a freight train, wanting to come apart on top of Eames, wanting to shatter Eames under him…

He gathered himself back together one last time, stared down at Eames, who was shaking under him, almost completely lost in the moment, who _needed_ to finish and was somehow still holding back.

“Eames. _Eames_.” A moment of attention from him, eyes wild, mouth slack and wet. “When I come, you do. Do you hear me?”

A jerky nod, an urgent and completely inarticulate sound, and Eames focused on Arthur’s face, brow furrowed with the effort of his concentration, a tiny bloody spot on his lip where he'd bitten himself.

And Arthur threw his head back and let go, driving himself down onto Eames’ cock, dragging his orgasm out of himself with a last few twists of his wrist, his whole body shaking as he cried out, feeling Eames shuddering between his thighs and then coming with a rough shout as he arched off the bed, his sheer strength breathtaking as he lifted them both briefly and held there, trembling, pulsing inside Arthur, and then they both collapsed, Arthur sprawled atop Eames as they both sucked desperately for air.

It was several minutes before Arthur could persuade his weary body to move, but he was still in charge, Eames was still in his care, and he had tasks he needed to complete.

He pushed himself up and to the side, taking Eames’ face in his hands to look him over. Eames blinked at him slowly, face relaxed and soft, and smiled. _Arthur_, he mouthed without sound.

Arthur smiled back, dropped a light kiss on the swollen lips, and turned his attention to the restraints. He carefully unbuckled each cuff, checking the skin underneath, pleased that the skin was pink but with no serious abrasions. He urged Eames over and spread his thighs, shifting the plug gently first in warning, then drawing it out slowly, tenderly. Eames sighed into the pillow, limp and sated.

“Stay there,” Arthur murmured into the back of his thigh, dragging his teeth lightly against the skin. “I'll be right back.”

He started the bath, grateful again that they had decided on the condo with the massive tub that would easily fit them both. He quickly cleaned himself with a warm damp washcloth, then rinsed it and took it out to Eames, spreading him with caresses and stroking him clean, accompanied by Eames’ little lazy sounds of pleasure.

Eames, sated, was vocal without words. Arthur loved the little grunting noises he made in his throat when Arthur moved him, the deep rumble that might as well be a purr as Arthur massaged his legs, the tiny protesting whine as he was tugged to the edge of the bed.

He smiled down at Eames. “Come on, you big muscular lump. I can't carry you into the bath.”

Eames snickered quietly, clearly remembering the very few times Arthur had allowed Eames to carry him, making dire threats the whole way.

“Up,” Arthur said, trying for stern, and only succeeding in fond exasperation.

Eames sighed deeply and pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed. Then his eyebrow rose and his mouth curved into a crooked smile and he wriggled his backside against the bed lasciviously.

Arthur laughed, pulling him up and into his arms, and Eames wrapped around him contentedly, nuzzling behind Arthur's ear. Arthur held him for a long moment, pushing away all thoughts of the future, before steering him in the direction of the bathtub.

Once Eames was soaking, he could put away the restraints and clean the toys, change the sheets, and bring him some tea before joining him in the bath. After that, they could fall into bed and cuddle until they fell asleep.

And that was all Arthur wanted at the moment. It was enough for now.

Arthur woke from his comfortable doze when Eames slipped out of bed. The bedroom also faced the bay and the Sound, and Arthur watched Eames stand at the glass, naked and glorious, framed by the ridiculously showy sunset reflected in Elliott Bay. The angle of his head indicated that his gaze was lower, watching the water, rather than the sky. A little shiver tensed his shoulders and then he turned away, glancing in the direction of the bed. For a moment, it looked like his eyes were glowing a deep blue-green, then he blinked and it was gone.

“I'm sorry I woke you, love. Go back to sleep.”

Arthur made a muffled noise of assent against the pillow and closed his eyes, hearing Eames pad out of the bedroom. He waited a few minutes. When Eames didn't return, he sighed and rolled over to stare at the ceiling, holding the bridge of his nose tightly and arguing with himself.

After a moment, he left the bed to go sit on the rug in the walk-in closet and lean his back against the wall where a trick of the venting system meant he could hear everything that went on in the main room. He knew Eames knew about it, had used it himself, but they still left each other the illusion of privacy.

“…is indeed that time again.” Arthur thought Eames sounded exhausted and wondered how he'd missed that.

“No, that's kind of you to offer, but…no. No, that's not…well, yes, that rather _is_ the problem. I…”

There was a long pause and then Eames sighed. “I agree that it might not have been wise, but it was as inevitable as the tides, really.”

Another pause, then a low laugh. “It’s not romantic twaddle…look…stop laughing. No, really, stop laughing. It's really disturbing when you laugh…Saito!”

Eames lowered his voice and Arthur could picture him glancing over his shoulder at the hallway leading to the bedroom. “Put your dignity back together,” he hissed. “I'm glad this is so amusing…”

He huffed and Arthur knew that sound of mild vexation. “Yes. Well. Of course I live to serve…Saito…” The name trailed off in a warning tone. “Yes…yes…” A heavy sigh. “…yes…_no_!”

Arthur heard the creak of the leather sofa as Eames got up and he tensed, ready to slip back to bed. When Eames spoke next, Arthur guessed he’d moved to the window wall.

His voice was quiet and tired again. “I don't care if it's…I won't give him up without at least...”

Arthur barely heard quiet footfalls as if Eames were pacing. “If I left without explaining…you _know_ him. He's already sussed out the timing…”

A quiet thud with a slight reverberation. Arthur guessed that was contact with the window wall. “…oh, well,” Eames’ voice took on a forced lightness, “I thought perhaps _you_ could…”

A lengthy pause. “Yes. Tomorrow.” His voice dropped to a whisper Arthur could barely hear. “Thank you.”

Arthur got up and walked out to the main room, wrapping around Eames from behind where he stood leaning his forehead on the glass. “It won't destroy us if you can't tell me,” Arthur said into the warm skin of Eames’ shoulder, tracing an edge of ink with his mouth.

Eames turned and enveloped Arthur in a hug, pressing his lips behind Arthur's ear. “Yes, it will. I know it will. It would always be there between us, that there is this thing that I don't trust you with.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment. “But you're afraid my knowing whatever this is might also destroy us.”

“Yes,” Eames whispered, not letting him go.

Arthur considered that, turning over dozens of ugly ideas in his head. “Saito knows.”

“Saito has known me most of my life.”

Arthur frowned at that, wondering how a Japanese billionaire knew an orphan in the British foster care system. And why, if so, Eames had been left there. “No one on the Fischer job even suspected that you knew each other before then. But then Saito is Saito and you are just that good.” Eames made a quiet pleased noise.

“Saito is a…decent…man,” Arthur said slowly. “If he knows, and accepts it, then I don't see how this could be so terrible a secret.”

“Arthur,” Eames said tenderly.

“No, listen, Eames. I think we're strong enough to weather whatever this is. But if you can't tell me, we can handle that too, especially if it means keeping what we already have.”

“But you would always wonder. And I don't know that you'd be able to keep from looking for an answer. It's not just what you do, it's what you _are_, my darling.”

Arthur made an exasperated noise into Eames’ ear. “You're reasoning us into a corner here.” He leaned away a little to look into Eames’ worried gaze. “You don't need me to tell you there are no certainties in life. Give us both some credit for flexibility.”

Eames nodded and tucked Arthur's head back against his shoulder and they stood like that while the last light of sunset faded out of the sky.

Arthur sighed. “When we get to Saito’s place…”

“Yes?”

Arthur leaned back to give him a severe look. “I'm not going to find out you're slaughtering kittens for their fur or something, am I?”

“Jesus, Arthur!” Eames started laughing.

“Oh, I do have one other very important question.”

Eames grinned at him, holding his face and tracing his thumbs over Arthur's dimples. “I'm all aquiver, love. Out with it.”

“You didn't put your bare ass and balls all over our leather sofa, did you? Tell me you at least sat on a throw.”

* * *

Arthur was up early the next morning, packing for them both, while Eames lay sprawled over the bed on his stomach, still asleep. He paused with his hands full of clothing and just watched him breathe, drinking in the sight of him.

He was very likely to spend the next year without him, regardless of what this secret might be, and he was appalled at how much that thought ached. Eames could throw around stories of love at first sight all he wanted, but Arthur had fought him every step of the way until the utter inevitability of the man had settled in. He had simply insinuated himself into every part of Arthur’s life and then steadfastly refused to be refused. And now Arthur couldn't really remember how he had functioned before Eames. He would certainly survive the upcoming year, but the dread of it was almost suffocating.

Eames made a sleepy little snuffling noise into his arm and turned over, denying Arthur the sight of that powerful back and sculpted ass, but offering the smooth ridges of his stomach and the curve of his thighs, as well as his awakening cock, twitching and stiffening, rising from its copper-brown nest. His mouth fell open and he snored lightly.

Smiling, Arthur put the clothes down and walked over. Eames got morning wood more reliably than anyone Arthur had known since his teenage years.

He gently settled onto the bed between Eames’ legs and leaned down to take his cock in his mouth, closing around the head to start sucking.

“Oh, fuck, Arthur!”

He was hard-pressed not to laugh as Eames flailed awake, one hand grasping at Arthur’s head and the other slamming up to grab frantically at the headboard.

“Holy fuck, darling, good morning, don't stop, oh god, please don't stop.”

Arthur hummed around him and briskly worked him into coming, smug at his hoarse shout, swallowing him down and then lifting his head to meet Eames’ dazed stare while he licked at the corners of his mouth and smirked. “Good morning. Would you like to shower? I can put on either coffee or tea, as you like.”

Eames blinked at him and let his head drop back to the bed, starting to chuckle. “You evil sodding git,” he said with admiration. He lifted his head again. “I love you, you know. I'm more than a bit afraid of you, but I do love you.”

Arthur moved up the bed to lay next to him. “Do you love me even though I taste of you right now?”

Eames rolled to his side to face Arthur and pretended to consider that. “Do you taste of me _and_ morning breath?”

Arthur smiled. “Just you. But you've undoubtedly got morning breath, so we still have the same problem.”

Eames drew his fingertip across Arthur's mouth lightly enough to tickle. Arthur bit him in warning and raised an eyebrow.

Eames sighed dramatically and leaned in for a kiss. “Suppose I must really love you,” he murmured into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur held him tight as he surrendered to the kiss, pulling Eames over on top of him, letting Eames pin him to the bed and drive the breath out of him.

“Arthur,” he murmured, pushing himself up a little and looking down at Arthur worriedly.

Arthur inhaled slowly and opened his eyes, forcing a small smile. He didn't entirely trust his voice at the moment, so he slid a hand up between them and laid it flat on his own sternum, then lifted it to touch Eames’ mouth with his fingers.

Eames gave him a long look, kissed at his fingertips, and nodded. Then he sighed, rolled off and walked into the bathroom. Arthur heard the shower start and got up to finish packing.

They had planned to purchase tickets to Japan at the airport that morning but both his phone and Eames’ received a text message while Eames was still in the shower. 

The car and driver Saito had ordered were waiting for them outside their building. Arthur therefore expected the private jet, but he didn't expect one with a small but luxurious bedroom in back and only a single discreet flight attendant who would quickly disappear after takeoff.

Eames looked wryly amused when they stepped into the cabin. He had barely let go of Arthur's hand during the car trip and now he raised it to his mouth, dragging his lips along Arthur’s knuckles. “Well, it _is_ an eleven-hour flight, darling.”

“I don't know whether I prefer this to be an example of his normal means of travel, a terrifying exhibition of his sense of humor, or a grim reminder not to waste any of the time we have.”

Eames barked a laugh and dropped into one of the chairs, pulling Arthur down next to him. “It would probably be wisest to assume all three. He does tend to be efficient in his messages.”

Later, as they lay curled together on the bed in the soft light of the shaded windows, Arthur thought it might also have been an expression of kindness. Even flying first-class these days meant crowded airports and waiting and security lines and overbooked flights. This quiet and comfortable solitude was a consideration Arthur had not expected, and he wondered at it as Eames stretched beside him.

Upon landing, they were whisked through private customs and delivered to the Hoshinoya Tokyo. Arthur was immediately delighted with the modern ryokan-style hotel. In the spacious tatami-matted room, they found a elegantly folded hand-written note on the low bed.

“Saito sends his apologies and needs a few days to clear up some rather urgent business,” Eames read aloud. “Once his business is complete we'll go north to his private estate. In the meantime, we should enjoy Tokyo, or travel elsewhere in the country as we desire.”

Eames looked up from the note to find Arthur undressing and dropped it to go over and help. Arthur hung up his jacket and smiled as Eames turned him around to begin unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“These tiny slippery buttons are a tease, pet,” Eames complained, then took his bottom lip between his teeth as he worked at them.

“Then it's just as well you have nimble thief’s fingers. And your mouth is a tease, which you are well aware of and far too inclined to use.”

“Are we undressing you to a particular purpose?” Eames asked with a crooked grin. “Aside from rendering you naked and vulnerable to my charms, of course.”

“I thought we might soak in the onsen baths on the roof for a while.”

Eames paused, then resumed unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. “They're fed from underground salt springs, aren't they?” he asked casually.

“Yes?”

“Mmm. Why don't you go soak while I take a quick nap and we'll meet at the spa for massages in an hour or so? After that, we can head out into the city for some fun.”

“Eames.”

“Arthur. Darling. Go soak. Saito chose this place because he knew you’d love it.”

“Why all this attention to my preferences?”

Eames sighed and let his hands rest on Arthur's hips. “Because he knows that this will be hardest on you, and he rather likes you and wants to make it as easy for you as it can be.”

Arthur reached out and touched Eames’ face. There were growing shadows under his eyes and a slight hollowness to his cheeks that he didn't like. It made his eyes seem larger and darker somehow.

He gave Arthur a dry look. “I'm not dying, or even sick, petal. It's just a recurring thing I go through. And I promise you'll know all about it very soon.”

Arthur nodded and stepped out of his trousers, hanging them neatly and letting Eames wrap him in the kimono provided. “I'll go soak then. See you in the spa.”

Eames was waiting for him in the spa, lazily sprawled on a low sofa with his head bent over his cupped hands, a trail of steam rising from them as he sipped his tea. He was wrapped in the dark and shapeless guest kimono, and he looked sleepy and slightly scruffy and Western and just a little oversized, and somehow entirely comfortable and not at all out of place. He glanced up at Arthur above the rim of the cup and quirked his scarred eyebrow at him and Arthur suddenly wanted him more than air. The corners of Eames’ eyes crinkled as he took a slow sip of his tea and Arthur knew Eames had read his reaction perfectly clearly. He gave Eames a wry smile and settled on the sofa next to him, accepting a sip of tea from the cup Eames raised to his lips.

The massages were excellent, the masseurs and masseuses, one each for each of them, highly skilled and professional, and Arthur had intended to get Eames back to the room and encourage more of his massage-related noises out of him in private, but as soon as they settled on the bed, they were both drifting off, travel fatigue and time shift sneaking up on them.

Arthur gave Eames a wistful look after a particularly jaw-cracking yawn, and Eames returned a rueful one, sighing as he pulled Arthur against him comfortably and letting his eyes close.

* * *

They spent five days in Tokyo, including several hours in a cat cafe with internet access while Arthur did a quick and well-paying research job with two contented and purring calicos curled in his lap as he sat cross-legged on a cushion. Eames indulged himself by taking them to a handful of themed bars and restaurants, and they even found themselves laughing drunkenly in an alley one night as several terrified muggers ran away, having mistaken the pair for helpless tourists and instead found themselves facing two dangerous men with guns, one grimly amused, the other unnervingly jovial.

Arthur snickered. “Stop giggling, Eames, and put the gun away before we get to the street.”

“I'm not giggling,” Eames said in drunken offense. “Men don't _giggle_.” He ruined his pronouncement by giggling as the last running mugger slipped on something in the alley and went sprawling into the thick pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk. He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at Arthur in horror.

“Well, you _are_ drunk,” Arthur said generously.

“Mm nogh nagt nrugh!”

“Clearly you are that drunk. Take your hand away from your mouth.”

“You're drunk too!” Eames accused. “You've got a gun in your hand and your dimples are out. That never happens.” He blinked and reached out to touch one of Arthur's dimples. “Don't put the gun away yet.”

Arthur holstered his gun and Eames’ as well, somehow withstanding the mighty scowl that resulted.

“You did exactly the opposite of what I wanted,” Eames said in deep disappointment.

Arthur sighed fondly, curving a hand around the back of Eames’ neck. “You know I don't play games with guns in reality.” He kissed Eames lingeringly. “And you don't either, normally,” he murmured against his mouth.

“You drive me to it, darling. Suddenly you were just so hot, standing there all competent and dangerous and smiling. I just wanted to muss you up.”

“You wanted to muss up, presumably somewhat against my will, a man with a gun in his hand?”

Eames grinned at him. “Exactly! Because I knew you'd let me do it, and how amazingly sexy is that?”

Arthur laughed. “For fuck’s sake, Eames, can we go back to the hotel before you try to forcibly muss me?”

“Try?” Eames’ scarred eyebrow quirked and Arthur felt a little shock of arousal at the sudden low drawl of that word. “Oh, pet, we both know I'm stronger than you. It won't be a matter of _trying_.” He growled the last word into Arthur's ear and Arthur shivered against him.

He pushed Eames away. “Hotel.”

They found a taxi, and Eames kept trying to pet along Arthur's leg and Arthur kept pushing his hand away until, with a faint irritated growl, Eames took a grip, fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises on Arthur’s thigh. Arthur inhaled sharply and then stopped breathing altogether as Eames pressed harder, grinding his thumb down as if to find the long thighbone underneath. The signal flashed straight to Arthur's groin, not quite pain, or not entirely.

He exhaled slowly and relaxed his leg under Eames’ hand. Eames rumbled an approving noise and loosened his grip, rubbing in a soothing motion over the sensitive spots. Arthur focused on the tiny flashes of sensation as Eames stroked over what would be bruises later.

And then they were at the hotel and Eames was guiding Arthur to their room with a hand in the small of his back. “Walk a little faster, love,” Eames growled, fingertips scraping at Arthur through his clothing.

Arthur snorted. “I'm not running through the halls just so you can manhandle me more quickly.”

“I should just pick you up and carry you there.” Eames laughed under his breath as Arthur tried to stop in his tracks and Eames gave him a little shove forward, well-prepared for his reaction. “You're a little predictable when you're drunk and randy, you know.”

Arthur locked down his initial reaction, and dropped his head forward, exposing the nape of his neck and rubbing it as if he were a little embarrassed. Eames would normally never have fallen for it, but Arthur wasn't the only one with habitual responses in unguarded moments, and sure enough, Eames’ attention was drawn just enough.

As they entered their room, Eames reached up to take hold of the back of Arthur's neck and Arthur used his distraction to turn and drop, knocking Eames’ feet out from under him and following through to pin him down. Eames was already rolling away, finding the wall and launching himself off it to tackle Arthur. They tumbled together until Arthur threw out a leg to redirect their momentum and pin Eames face down on the tatami floor.

Eames panted for breath and chuckled, letting his forehead drop. “Good thing there's plenty of room here, darling. Are we planning to preserve the furnishings?”

“I'd prefer to,” Arthur said, bracing himself. “I'd hate to be banned from this place.”

“Right-o. Controlled combat it is then.” He grew taut under Arthur, beginning the process of muscling out of the hold Arthur had him in.

Arthur felt his breathing shift, his heart rate speed, felt his cock growing harder where he was pressed to the swell of Eames’ firm ass. There were times that Arthur was reminded, viscerally, of Eames’ strength and ruthlessness, and it never failed to arouse him. A slight tilt of Eames’ head told him Eames was aware of his reaction.

“Arthur,” he said, low and strained as he exerted himself. “Why not give in?” He grunted with effort and Arthur felt his cock twitch as his hold weakened. “You don't _want_ to win…this time.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, shifting his hold. “Fuck you, Eames,” he gasped. “Strength isn't everything in a fight.”

“Among…otherwise…equally…matched…opponents…” Eames panted as he strained, his muscles bunching and flexing.

Arthur used his elbow to knock Eames’ arm out of alignment and regained his hold for the moment. “Fallacy,” he breathed harshly into Eames’ ear. “And please don't make your normal bad joke. We both know a fight has too many variables.”

Eames relaxed for a moment under him, laughing, rough and wicked. “I wish we were naked and oiled for this, pet. Why haven't we done that yet? Then I could just shove deep into you when I had you pinned underneath me. Or you could be sinking your prick into me right now and claiming victory with every thrust, every moan you forced out of me.”

Arthur's breath caught as a wave of lust surged over him and then Eames wrenched free and was rolling them over, and Arthur found his hands pinned over his head and Eames pressed between his thighs, his forearm across Arthur's throat.

He stared up at Eames, open-mouthed breaths rasping a little under the pressure. Eames leaned into him, full mouth twisted into a predatory grin, eyes dark and intent as Arthur worked to suck air past the constriction. “Arthur,” he purred softly. “Yield.”

Arthur grinned around his harsh panting and tilted his head back, cutting off more of his own airway as he rubbed his hips up against Eames, the friction of their erections against their clothes almost, but not quite, painful.

With a dark chuckle, Eames shifted to lean closer to Arthur's ear. “You think I won't fuck your unconscious body, petal? Won't leave you splayed out on the floor with come trickling out of your lovely arse?”

Arthur turned his head to put his mouth near Eames’ ear. _Vengeance_, he mouthed as spots started to drift across his vision and the edges grew dark.

Eames made a thoughtful noise as he brushed his mouth over Arthur's ear, then he rolled off and stood, bending to drag Arthur across the room by his wrists and picking him up to drop him on the bed.

“Catch your breath,” he ordered as he set their guns aside with a little care and started stripping Arthur, pulling off his shirt and dragging his trousers down to his knees. He flipped Arthur roughly onto his stomach and dragged him half-off the low bed, leaving him gasping and folded over the edge, knees on the ground and thighs held in place by his trousers. Eames sat on the edge of the bed, holding him down with Arthur's hands locked in the small of his back and leaned over him to reach below, seeming to be pleased by how hard and wet Arthur was.

“We don't play this game very often, do we?” he purred, stroking his thumb over the head of Arthur's cock.

Arthur coughed a laugh, arching his spine to push his ass a little higher and incidentally getting his toes tucked under his feet, grateful for the hotel policy of requiring shoes to be left at the entrance.

“That's because…it usually…” he whispered hoarsely, shoved his legs up straight and threw himself to the side, catching Eames off-balance and pulling him over with him since hadn't released his grip on Arthur's wrists. They ended up rolling off the bed onto the floor again, to come to rest with Arthur kneeling on Eames’ back, Eames’ arms held straight back and up away from his body in a painful twist. “…tends to go on for a long time.” He leaned forward a bit to take Eames’ fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and twining his tongue between them.

Eames started laughing, relaxing under Arthur as much as the position of his shoulders would allow. “We are rather perfectly matched, aren't we?,” he asked, turning his head to the side to grin at Arthur. “Though technically I already won…” He hissed as Arthur applied a little pressure to his shoulders. “Don't be petty, darling, if I'd choked you into unconsciousness, that would count as a yield. I just much prefer you awake and responsive. And not plotting some unspeakable revenge.”

Arthur grumbled, gently lowering Eames’ arms. “Fine.” He slipped off to one side to pull his trousers all the way off. “What do you claim?”

Eames rolled onto his back, stretching his shoulders and wincing slightly. “You, of course.”

“Be more specific.”

Eames grinned at him from the floor and unbuttoned his trousers, lifting his hips to slide them off and making a show of it. “I think I'd prefer to surprise you.” He sat up to take off his shirt and winced again. “Though it's going to involve that massive soaking tub in the bathroom, I assure you. Grappling with you takes everything I've got.”

Arthur stood and rolled his own shoulders before offering a hand to Eames, dimples accompanying his smile. He pulled Eames to his feet and then turned around, pressing back against him and lowering his head, baring the nape of his neck. “I yield,” he said, soft and rough.

Eames gripped Arthur's hips and held his breath and Arthur could feel him staring, waited forever for the little growl and the touch of his mouth, shuddered when Eames finally scraped his teeth across the sensitive skin and then bit down, marking him with the indents of those crooked teeth before shoving him away.

“Bloody hell, Arthur, are you trying to make me come right here?” Eames stomped away into the bathroom, cursing under his breath and tugging his balls as Arthur fought down a smile. “You can sodding well tidy up our clothes while I run the bath!” Eames shouted. “Then get your arse in here!”

Arthur heard the water start as he began picking up clothes, hanging them where appropriate or dropping them in the laundry basket in the closet.

When Eames strode past him in a guest kimono and out the door, Arthur raised an eyebrow and shrugged to himself. He dug the silicone-based lubricant out of his suitcase and went into the bathroom, setting it on a ledge and checking the temperature of the bath water, then folded a towel and knelt on it next to the small wooden stool where civilized guests sat and washed themselves before entering the soaking tub.

He heard the room door open and close and then Eames came into the bathroom, holding a tray with a steaming teapot and two cups. He stopped dead at the doorway when he saw Arthur kneeling there, naked.

“You _are_ trying to make me come untouched, aren't you?”

Arthur smiled, lowering his eyes.

“Right then, darling, we're going to do this up proper.” Eames set the tray down on the floor and hung his kimono on a hook, then sat down, naked, on the small wooden stool facing Arthur. “But you're going to drink some tea first, pet, before we start playing with your bruises.” He poured a cup of fragrant green tea from the teapot and held it out.

Arthur wrinkled his nose and took the cup reluctantly, making Eames chuckle. “Yes, I know it's not your beloved coffee, but just you drink it anyway. I want you to be able to talk later without having to wince in guilt.”

“You're not feeling guilty,” Arthur said, giving him a wry look. “And my throat’s not that bad.”

“Nevertheless.” Eames gave him a wolfish grin. “Need I make it an order?”

A tiny smile played about Arthur's mouth and he sipped the tea to cover it. Eames reached out to pick up Arthur's other hand, stroking his thumbs over the marks he'd left on his wrist. Arthur made a pleased sound, but kept sipping the tea at the sharp look Eames cast him. Eames lifted his wrist and kissed along the finger-shaped shadows, nipping at the edges until Arthur put down the empty tea cup, then he lifted Arthur’s chin to look over his throat, stroking the reddened skin with consideration. Arthur hummed roughly at the touch, leaning in a bit.

“Every now and then,” Eames mused, “the wires get a little crossed, don't they?”

Arthur reached out and wrapped his strong fingers around Eames’ elbow, settling against the marks he'd left there and applying slow pressure.

Eames licked his lips. “Fair enough, petal, we’re both a tad twisted.” He placed the tea tray on a ledge, adding Arthur's empty cup, and then stood to pull Arthur to his feet. He roughly shoved him to face the wall, feet apart, hands braced on the tiles, and turned on the the handheld shower head to wet him down.

Arthur kept his hands and feet where they were but otherwise leaned into the warm spray as Eames moved it over his body. He nearly purred as Eames shampooed and rinsed his hair, squirming as Eames’ fingers massaged his scalp and tipped his head way back. He moaned as Eames dribbled body wash over him and then lathered him, arching and twisting to make every part of himself available, pushing his hips back as Eames teased between his ass cheeks.

After rinsing him, Eames slapped his ass hard, smiling at the handprint that flared to life on his skin. “Into the tub with you.”

Arthur was so aroused he was almost clumsy as he clambered into the massive waist-high tub. Eames fixed him with a glare. “And keep your hands off yourself, darling. Do you understand?”

Arthur responded with a grumbling noise but nodded, sinking into the hot water up to his chin and closing his eyes briefly.

Eames grinned at the smoky looks Arthur kept flashing him as he washed himself. He rinsed quickly and got into the tub himself, groaning out loud at the embrace of the hot water.

“God’s _bollocks_, that feels so good. All right, Arthur, come here.” He knelt in the tub and made Arthur kneel with his back to him, running his hands over his shoulders and back before leaning in and biting down along the top of his shoulders, sucking over each bite mark to bruise it further until Arthur was clutching at the edge of tub and making a quiet whining noise with each breath.

Eames kept the marks symmetrical along the tops of his shoulders and then pushed Arthur forward and began biting down his back, on either side of his spine. When he'd reached the waterline, he nudged Arthur to stand and continued to mark him down to the swell of his backside, supporting him with his hands wrapped around the curve of Arthur's hips, digging in with his fingers to leave marks there.

He bent Arthur forward to bite and suck marks into the tender crease where his backside met his thighs and then turned him to work at the creases of hip and thigh. Arthur moaned helplessly, hips shifting back and forth, but Eames avoided his stiff and leaking cock to bite up his stomach. He again left a symmetrical pattern, lingering over the way Arthur's skin showed the color, then pulled him back down to his knees to continue the pattern under both collarbones.

Arthur was panting when he finished his design, fingers clutching the edges of the tub, eyes unfocused. Eames claimed him in a fierce kiss, letting his thumbs trail down to press at and toy with the bruise over his throat as Arthur made soft pleading noises into his mouth.

“Up,” Eames said roughly. “Stand and turn, bend over, hold the edge of the tub.”

Arthur obeyed, seeing Eames reach for the silicon lube out of the corner of his eye. He shuddered in anticipation, bit his lips together to stay quiet.

Eames smacked his ass open-handed several times. “None of that, pet. I want to hear you.” Arthur whined softly under the blows, arching his back and then letting his head drop.

“Eames…Eames, please…”

“That's right, love.” Eames slid one, then a second, slick finger into Arthur, spreading the lube but making no other effort at prep. “Just like that,” he said approvingly as Arthur moaned.

He set the container aside and settled back in the tub, crossing his legs and pulling Arthur down to sit in his lap, leaning him back against Eames. Then he lifted Arthur's hips, an easy feat with Arthur submerged, and reached beneath to hold his cock in place, lowering Arthur onto him, the waterproof lube letting his cock slip in relentlessly. Arthur dropped his head back against Eames’ shoulder as he was filled, each inhale hissing through his teeth as Eames dragged him into place, his hands scrabbling at Eames’ thighs, trying to pull himself down faster.

They both took a moment to breathe as Arthur settled around Eames’ cock. “Now then,” Eames murmured into his ear, slipping a hand up to stroke lightly at the front of Arthur's throat. Arthur exhaled with a deep contented sound, nestling his hips further down onto Eames, his own fingers working at the marks Eames had left on his belly and collarbones.

Eames fitted his fingers into the bruises at Arthur's hips, holding him while he slowly surged in and out. Arthur moaned, lost in the sensations flooding his nerve endings, completely given over to Eames’ hands and body, feeling each stroke of Eames’ cock brush his prostate, sparking the coil of orgasm that was rising in him like a tide. He rose on it, dazed, without reaching for it, letting it build and spread until he could no longer hear himself begging, could no longer make out Eames’ words, knew only the curl of that internal spring winding one turn too tightly, and then another, until a hand on his cock snapped it and he was flying apart.

He drifted back, feeling Eames still shuddering under him, whispering his name harshly over and over again as he pulsed deep within Arthur's body. He slowly turned his head to nuzzle against Eames’ jawline.

“Eames. Yours,” Arthur murmured.

Eames went slack underneath him, his arms sliding up to wrap loosely around Arthur's chest.

“My Arthur,” he said, low and rough.

“Yours,” Arthur agreed. “Always.”

* * *

On the fifth day, Saito sent a car for them and they traveled north to his private land on the coast that might have looked exactly the same hundreds of years ago. Once they were delivered to a very traditional room in a very traditional house, Eames, looking faintly nervous, was called away to speak to Saito.

When he returned, he’d become outright somber. “Check your totem, love.”

“What? Why?” Arthur was already reaching into his pocket for it, and Eames nodded at him.

“Verified reality?” he asked. “Good. You remember how we got here, yes?”

“Eames…”

“Just _remember_ that this is reality, all right?” He took Arthur's face and looked at him hard. “No matter how unbelievable it seems.”

“Okay…”

“And leave all your weapons here. _All_ of them.”

“Eames.”

“Arthur, please. Saito is doing us a very great favor. An almost inconceivable one, really.”

Arthur exhaled and set his jaw. “All right.”

Arthur walked out into the beautiful traditional gardens, unarmed, confused, worried, and starting to get just a little angry. Saito was standing at the edge of a pond with his back to Arthur and his hands clasped behind him. As Arthur approached, he turned partially with a small nod and indicated the pond. There were several massive koi gliding through the water.

“Are they not lovely?” Saito asked, gazing back at them.

Arthur took a breath. “They are indeed. They're quite large. Doesn't that mean they’re also old?”

Saito nodded. “They are almost two hundred years old.”

“Mmm.”

Saito smiled slightly. “You are holding on to your patience with both hands, Arthur, and your efforts are much appreciated. Allow me be more direct.”

“I would be grateful.”

“There is a hidden world, one inhabited by creatures that humanity considers to be legendary.”

Arthur surreptitiously fondled his totem and waited.

“Your Eames is one such creature, as I am another. He is human for six years out of seven, but for the seventh, he must return to the sea.”

He inhaled evenly. “Must he.”

Saito smiled again. “Such poise in the face of absurdity.” He turned to walk along a neatly groomed path, gesturing Arthur to accompany him. “Do you believe I would make such a statement without proof?”

Arthur walked beside him, eyes tracking around the gardens uncomfortably. “I'm not certain what proof could possibly serve for such a statement.”

“Say that I could prove to you that _I_ am not human. Would you want to see such proof?”

“You said you're not a sea creature.” Arthur studied an elegant arrangement of rocks and moss, apprehensive at the irrationality of the moment.

“No. I am not. _Arthur_.”

At Saito’s change in tone, Arthur glanced at the man walking beside him. What was pacing with him instead had a massive fanged snout with whiskery tendrils and huge eyes, trailed by a long golden serpentine body and four clawed legs.

“_I_ am a dragon.”

Arthur stood very still, his totem clutched in one hand. He tried to change the dream, either the dragon or the location, but nothing happened. He remembered Eames saying, _this is reality, no matter how unbelievable_.

The dragon settled itself neatly in front of him, laying its chin on its forepaws, bringing its eyes below his eye level. “Arthur,” it said in Saito’s voice. “When you have taken three deep breaths, I want you to step forward and touch me. Verify for yourself.”

Arthur took the three breaths, shaky though they were, and forced himself forward. The tendrils around the mouth moved idly, without intention it seemed, but not in response to any breeze. The scales of the long but strangely feline face were fine and silken under his trembling fingertips, the color a gold that started pale and deepened to the shade of an antique coin at the edges of the tiny scales. He had two elegantly branched horns, gilded ivory, sweeping back behind the eyes, and below them, furry pointed ears. A mane of very long multi-hued golden fur hung around his neck.

The eyes were Saito’s, a warm and rich coppery brown, as large as Arthur's fist, regarding him with a calm amusement.

“You are doing almost unimaginably well, Arthur.” The soft voice startled him and he glanced at the fangs, exposed by the movements of the mouth, many of them longer than his hand.

“How…” He cleared his throat.

“If I tell you ‘magic,’ will that satisfy your need for answers?”

Arthur felt the corners of his mouth tuck up. “You know that it won't.”

Saito chuckled, lifting his head to nudge gently at Arthur's chest. Arthur felt enveloped by a warm exhale of sweet breath. “I am afraid there has been very little scientific research on the subject.”

“How surprising,” Arthur said dryly.

The massive eyes crinkled at the corners as Saito regarded him with unmistakable approval. “He has indeed chosen well, our little fish.”

“Eames?” Arthur laughed.

Saito dropped his jaw slightly in what could only be a draconic smile. “A private joke, I am afraid. I should bring it up later and let you enjoy his reaction.”

“Saito…” Arthur found his voice suddenly a little unsteady.

The dragon rose to his feet and nudged Arthur very gently. “You will find the ruff of fur at my neck to be very soft. Put your hand there and walk with me again.”

Arthur obediently ran his hand through the shimmering golden strands, letting them engulf him to the elbow as he found the soft and scaled skin beneath. As they walked, Arthur found himself leaning against the massive neck, eyes closing to let Saito guide their steps.

“This type of revelation is an immense shock,” Saito murmured. “No matter how remarkable the individual, it requires at least a brief period of mental adjustment.”

Arthur hummed quietly in agreement, feeling suddenly sleepy. There was a moment of a drifting feeling and he blinked his eyes open to find Saito settling him gently into the curve of his body as the dragon curled up under the shade of a flame-leafed maple tree. 

“Are you still drowsy?” Saito asked softly.

Arthur nodded with a faint frown.

“Close your eyes, then, stubborn little human.” Saito’s amusement had an affectionate note threaded through it. Arthur thought of protesting, but found his eyes closing in spite of himself.

He felt Eames leaning beside him and heard the familiar rumble of his voice as he slowly awoke. The warm silken surface under him was soothing despite the strangeness of the slow heartbeat under his cheek.

“…did not tell him about ‘little fish’!” he heard Eames say with horror.

“Indeed I did not tell him ‘about’ it. I merely mentioned it.” Saito's voice was deeply amused.

“You are…” Eames cut himself off.

“I am a friend beyond price, an unquestioned refuge, and a guardian of that which you hold dearest.”

“Yes. That. Also.”

“Little fish.” Arthur heard the fondness and felt the shift of the dragon’s body underneath him as Saito leaned nearer. “Your Arthur is a remarkable treasure. He is also awake.”

“I know,” Eames said dryly. “He does that.”

Arthur smiled before he let his eyes open.

Eames took his hand, tangling their fingers. “Saito says you didn't try to kill him, run away, or kill yourself. Well done, darling.”

“None of those seemed like reasonable options.”

“Because reasonable was actually an option at the moment? I _am _impressed.” Eames leaned over to kiss him and Saito huffed, shifting a hind leg so that Eames toppled over onto Arthur, pinning him against the dragon’s warm side.

Arthur raised an eyebrow as Eames actually blushed. “Was that a suggestion or an order?”

“Yes,” both Saito and Eames replied, though their tones were entirely different.

Eames glared at the dragon. “You know how he's all ‘please refrain from breathing in my general direction’ normally?”

Saito chuckled. “My human form occasionally feels rather constricting. I appreciate a certain personal distance.”

“He's exactly the opposite in this form.”

Arthur blinked. “Specificity, Eames.”

“He's touchy-feely as hell.” Eames blushed again. “He doesn't want to join in, but he enjoys…er, very close observation.”

“Is…is this a usual thing?” Arthur asked with an eyebrow, glancing at Saito.

“All too rare,” the dragon replied mournfully, though Arthur thought he detected a sly gleam in the eyes. “I believe the modern term is ‘touch-starved.’”

Arthur took a deep breath. “Let us be very clear, please. You want to cuddle while Eames and I have sex on or against you?”

“Oh god,” Eames muttered, ducking his face against Arthur to hide.

Saito lowered his great furry golden head and scented delicately along their bodies, the whiskery tendrils moving in a gentle secondary caress. Arthur reached out and laid a hand on his soft nose, rubbing lightly, and Saito’s eyes closed in a slow pleased blink.

“I'll be honest,” Arthur said. “I find this almost indescribably bizarre, but as long as Eames is all right with it, I…would be honored if you would like to…participate.”

“Well chosen indeed, little fish,” Saito murmured, nuzzling along Eames’ back and only incidentally pushing him more firmly against Arthur.

Arthur snorted and shoved back. “Hey though, we're not doing this out here. We need to relocate to a bedroom.”

Saito’s room was a very traditional one, if quite large, floored with tatami mats. One wall, of sliding shoji screens, was open to the gardens, with a wide wooden porch serving as a threshold. The wall opposite had smaller sliding doors, now closed, obviously meant for human entry into a hallway beyond. One of the side walls held a tokonoma display alcove with an incredible bonsai forest in a massive shallow pot. The other wall had large built-in drawers. A small sea of futon bedding had been laid out in the middle of the space.

The dragon padded into the room, circling the bedding once and nosing it into a satisfactory configuration before curling into a loose pile atop it and bringing his gaze to rest on Arthur and Eames. His mouth curved in a tiny smirk. “You will find necessary supplies in the drawers.”

Arthur turned to go to the drawers and found Eames shifting from foot to foot. He put a hand on Eames arm. “If you're not okay with this…”

Eames shook his head. “No, I mean, I am, it's just…”

Arthur regarded him. “Are you feeling _shy_?”

“…no…”

Saito laughed, reaching out a clawed foot and dragging Eames over to him. “That would be more convincing if you were not blushing from hairline to hips.”

“I'm wearing clothing, Saito.”

“Mmm, but I can sense the heat of it,” Saito rumbled as he pulled Eames against his muzzle, whiskers brushing him as he nosed along Eames’ throat and chest.

Arthur was startled to hear Saito start to _purr_. He shook his head and smiled to himself, looking through the drawers and finding a lovely ceramic container of clear unscented slick stuff. He rubbed the substance between his fingers and decided it was meant to be lubrication.

Turning back, he found Eames sitting trapped between Saito's forelegs while the dragon nuzzled him. His hair was mussed and tousled and his clothing was pushed askew and he was glaring at Arthur. “How are you handling this better than I am?” he demanded.

Saito lifted his head and _winked_ at Arthur before going back to rubbing the side of his face against Eames and Arthur couldn't help laughing as he set the pot down and crouched in front of Eames, holding his chin and kissing him slowly, working his mouth open.

Eames moaned quietly as he started to lift his hands but found Saito gently holding his arms to his side.

Arthur smiled against his mouth. “So we know how this is going to go then.”

Eames gave him a quick nod, closing his eyes and settling back against Saito.

Arthur stood and reached out to lay his hands on Saito's nose, fingertips moving in little circles, brushing the tiniest scales under the eyes. Saito's eyes closed and Arthur leaned to brush each eyelid gently. “Can you undress him for me?”

The great mouth curled up at the corners and the eyes blinked open lazily as he nudged Arthur back a couple of steps and Arthur was struck again by how feline the dragon really was. He stripped, folding his clothes and setting them in a neat pile at the edge of the room, and knelt at the edge of the bedding while he watched Saito deftly undress Eames without letting him assist in any way, ignoring Eames’ complaints. The dragon held Eames and his forepaws delicately unfastened and removed his clothes, clawed fingers far more nimble than they looked to be. Eames was fussing, but more as a matter of form than actual resistance.

When he was naked, Saito settled Eames into a kneeling position and curled to rub his face against him gently before turning his head and reaching out for Arthur with a forepaw.

“I thought you were just watching,” Arthur said to Saito as he petted one of the long claws and allowed himself to be moved to stand in front of Eames. Eames looked up at him with a calmer anticipation and crooked smile that made Arthur’s cock twitch.

“I am only helping,” Saito responded with amusement. He coiled his long body around them, leaving a small circular space, and drew his whiskered snout lightly up the back of Arthur's body, from knee to shoulder, before huffing a breath against the nape of his neck. “Take him,” he whispered against Arthur's skin. “Take him apart. Make him cry out in helpless pleasure.”

Arthur shuddered, cock hardening almost painfully. He ran his hand into Eames’ hair, holding his head and pushing his cock against his mouth. Eames took him in, moaned around him. Arthur realized that the claws of one of Saito’s hind legs were wrapped around Eames’ upper body, holding his arms to his side and keeping him in place, and then Saito was slowly nosing down Arthur's spine, starting at the base of his skull and ending with a leisurely nuzzle at his tailbone, pushing his hips forward a little into Eames’ mouth.

“Don’t…I won't last if you do that…” Arthur breathed. He pulled his hips back from Eames, cradling his face to hold him when Eames tried to follow. He dropped to his knees to kiss him, licking his mouth open as Eames writhed against the claws restraining him. When he leaned back, Eames stared at him, mouth wet, panting a little.

Arthur took a deep breath while Saito rubbed his face against Eames soothingly, huffing a little in his ear and chuckling when that caught both of the men.

Arthur gave him a mildly exasperated look as he raked a hand through his hair to resettle it. “Do you have restraints? Rope?”

“Mmm. A soft and lovely deep blue hemp rope that would be striking against his skin. In the bottom drawer.”

As Arthur rose to his feet, Saito gathered Eames against him, tucking him against the side of his body with his maned neck, murmuring softly to him. Arthur stroked the soft fur before going to find the rope and had to pry Eames out of Saito's clutches when he returned with it. He tugged him to his feet, looking at him intently for any reluctance or concern. Eames took a deep breath, more relaxed than before, and studied Arthur in return before dropping his gaze and turning his back, putting his arms behind him and offering his wrists.

“God, Eames,” Arthur whispered, kissing between his shoulder blades.

“I need this. With what’s coming up, I need out of my head,” Eames said matter-of-factly over his shoulder. “Will you do that for me, Arthur?”

“You know I will.”

Eames nodded, took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Saito brought the side of his neck up to Eames’ chest, providing a little support, and Eames leaned into him as Arthur began tying his wrists together.

When he'd finished, he put a gentle hand against Eames’ spine and considered him. Eames was leaning against the dragon, breathing deeply but evenly, feet spread for stability, wrists crossed and neatly restrained behind him. He was a beautiful sight against Saito’s golden scales and Arthur made a thoughtful sound in his throat. He pulled Eames back upright and ran his hands over his shoulders and down his sides. 

“Can you support his weight if I bent him over your paw?” he asked the dragon.

Saito responded with a scornful yet eager noise. “Little human.”

Arthur was already shifting Eames slightly, spreading his legs a little further, mind on how he wanted Eames positioned, on what would work best. He reached out to tap Saito’s nose in mild reprimand without looking at him. “Don't call me that,” he ordered absently.

Saito reared back, indignant, and Eames dropped his head, quietly laughing. “He's already on point, Saito.”

Arthur took hold of the nape of Eames’ neck firmly, holding his head forward and pressing his thumb into his pulse point, silencing him. At the same time, he glanced up at Saito with his eyebrow quirked.

Saito huffed, staring at him. “And what _should_ I call you, human who is both younger and smaller than myself?”

Arthur waited, watching Saito calmly, his stance relaxed and alert, his hand on Eames’ nape squeezing and releasing arrhythmically to keep Eames’ attention focused, to keep him in the moment.

Saito glanced at Arthur’s hand, at Eames, and his expression softened. He ducked his head, mane falling forward to partially obscure his eyes. “Arthur,” he said, low and quiet.

Arthur reached up and rested his other hand against Saito’s muzzle, rubbing soothing circles. “I’d like you to hold him while I bend him over and open him. And then I want to spread him against your body and take him while you keep him still for me.” Eames shuddered under his hand, biting his lip.

Saito purred, nodding. “Yes. Arthur, _yes_.” He lowered his face and nuzzled along the front of Eames’ body, then rubbed his cheek against Arthur's shoulder like a contented cat before settling himself and presenting a splayed and clawed paw before Eames’ waist.

Arthur turned Eames’ face for a kiss, lingering for a moment to taste his mouth luxuriously.

“My god, _Arthur_,” Eames murmured against his lips. “You faced down a dragon. You faced down _Saito_. You are the hottest fucking thing on this entire planet.”

Arthur made an amused sound in his throat before he pushed Eames down, folding him at the waist as if Saito’s open paw was a table. Saito hummed softly as he took Eames’ weight and Eames caught his breath as the massive paw closed briefly around him before flexing open again.

Arthur laid both hands on Eames’ backside, caressing him and glancing over to the side where he had set down the lubricant earlier. Saito’s other paw picked it up for him and Arthur ran his thumb curiously over the delicate juncture where a claw emerged from under the silken dragonskin before taking the pot and placing it in the palm of Eames’ hand where his wrists rested, crossed and bound, at the small of his back. Eames sucked in a breath as his fingers closed convulsively once around the pot, and he shivered as he held it.

“That's it,” Arthur murmured, caressing his arms and reaching to stroke along Eames’ spine. “Just relax. We've got you.”

Saito purred, his eyes almost closed, dimly glowing with a coppery sheen behind the lids. When Eames gasped and shifted, Arthur glanced down to find the dragon holding Eames’ ankles in position. “Literally,” Saito added with a lazy purr.

Arthur smiled and moved around to slide his hand into Eames’ hair and lift his head up. “I want your mouth first. I _always_ want your mouth first.”

Eames licked his lips and nodded. “Arthur,” he said, low and pleading. Arthur held his face, thumbs pressing into the corners of his mouth, and Eames took a breath and opened for him.

Arthur made a low guttural sound as he sank into the wet warmth. Eames didn't have much of a gag reflex but Arthur was still mindful as he thrust gently, working his methodical way deeper while making sure Eames had air, working to keep him relaxed while he pushed further in, using his throat and encouraging Eames to sink into that space where thought and planning were unnecessary, where he had simply to exist with only tenuous hopes for satisfaction to disturb the moment.

Saito watched while purring, occasionally rumbling softly to himself, now and again dipping his head to sniff and breathe gently against Eames’ back or legs, or to rub a slow, whiskery caress along Arthur's shoulder.

When Eames started to hum around him, Arthur moaned and stroked his fingers in Eames’ hair. “God, yes, just like that.” He let himself be clearly audible in his pleasure, knowing Eames wanted it, wanted to hear how well he was doing. And he was doing very well indeed; Arthur felt the orgasm coiling fast at the base of his spine and pulled back, Eames gasping in a breath and still trying to keep him in his mouth, licking at him almost frantically.

“Shh, shh, it's all right,” Arthur said, petting his face and pulling away. “That's right, you did so well, you know you did.”

He stroked his hands through Eames’ hair, soothing him as Eames squirmed over Saito’s palm trying to reach him and Saito closed his paw around him, claw tips pricking slightly into his skin. Arthur leaned down and touched his mouth to Eames’ ear. “We've got you,” he whispered. “Let. Go.”

Eames made a needy noise deep in his throat but let his head drop. Arthur kissed the back of his neck, then bit down hard enough to bruise. Eames tensed, trying to push up against him, then relaxed into the bite. Arthur let go and moved around behind him as Saito opened his paw again, letting his fingers trail along Eames’ body to stay in contact.

Behind Eames, Arthur petted his hands approvingly where they cupped the pot of lubricant, then slid his fingertips down the backs of Eames’ spread thighs and back up to wrap around his hips, Eames shivering as Arthur paused to regard him, thumbs stroking slow circles on his backside.

Saito was purring loudly again and rubbing his face up and down Arthur's back and hips, marking and claiming him like any possessive feline. Arthur took a moment to scratch at the brow ridges above Saito's eyes, watching the lids close over the great lambent eyes as the dragon tilted his head for better access. “You are such a cat,” he said with a smile.

“I am far superior to such a meagre beast,” Saito said loftily, even as he rubbed hard enough to push Arthur a few centimeters to the side. Arthur pushed back with his hip, keeping one hand on Eames, who was starting to shift a little, prompting Saito to close his claws around Eames again.

Arthur reached between Eames’ spread thighs and cupped his testicles, rolling them thoughtfully as Eames gasped and made low sounds with each exhale. He dipped two fingers into the pot Eames was holding and traced them down the cleft of his backside, only brushing lightly at Eames’ entrance, watching the slick stuff trickle teasingly down in a glistening trail.

Saito hovered intently over Arthur's shoulder, whiskers tickling his skin as Arthur pressed a finger into Eames, nudging him open as he shivered in Saito's grip. Arthur worked into him excruciatingly slowly, twisting and curling his finger, avoiding his prostate, and added a second finger, and then a third in response to Eames’ needy sounds. He'd always enjoyed leisurely fingering Eames into incoherency but he rarely had the opportunity unless Eames was restrained. He pulled out and applied more lube before working all three fingers back into him, his cock twitching at Eames’ increasingly desperate groans of his name.

When he'd reduced Eames to near whimpers, he pulled his fingers out slowly, turning his head to brush a light kiss along Saito’s muzzle. “Arrange him for me as you would like,” he said, taking the pot from Eames’ cupped hand and slicking himself with a brusque twist of his wrist.

Saito’s purring ratcheted up to a thudding rumble as he gracefully curled around himself, Eames’ body held securely as Saito settled to lay on his side, then brought Eames to lean face-down against his body, legs spread widely and held by one hind limb and one fore limb.

Arthur studied the tableau they made - the long golden serpentine body, clean-lined and elegant, the graceful limbs ending in claws longer than Arthur's hand, curled around and cradling Eames’ muscular, tanned, and inked body. Eames buried his face on Saito's side, trying to keep his hips pushed back a little, trying to keep from coming against the dragon, wrists twisting slightly in the rope restraints, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Arthur stepped forward and took one of his hands, twining his fingers with Eames’ for a reassuring squeeze and then slipping free to untie the rope, massaging Eames’ wrists while his shoulders slowly relaxed.

“Arms up, hands behind your head,” he murmured, leaning against Eames’ back. He re-tied the rope, looping it snugly around each wrist but leaving a foot of slack between his wrists. He nodded to Saito, who grinned a terrifyingly toothy grin and took hold of the rope, pulling it, and Eames’ arms, overhead, forcing him taut against his body. Arthur kissed the back of Eames’ neck, mouthing the bite mark he'd left, holding Eames’ hips still as he slipped his cock slowly into him, and paused only long enough to ensure Eames was all right before starting an unhurried rhythm.

Eames moaned as Arthur moved inside of him lazily, pressing his chest and stomach into warm golden-scaled hide.

“You feel so good,” Arthur whispered into his skin. “I could stay like this for days, Eames. So deep in you, god, the way you stretch around me, holding me so intimately…”

Eames clenched around him involuntarily as a shudder shook him. “Arthur,” he gasped, struggling against the rope and Saito's hold on his limbs. “Arthur, _please_…”

Arthur forced himself to stay to the same slow pace he'd started. “Not yet,” he murmured into Eames’ ear as he tugged his head back by his hair. “I'm not nearly ready.” It was an outright lie, and he caught the gleam of Saito's eye as the dragon grinned at him. He was so close to losing control; Eames always had that effect on him, but he was absolutely determined to keep him on the edge as long as he could, dragging out the process of making him fall apart under Arthur's touch. He took a deep shaky breath and shifted position slightly, savoring the urgent cries Eames let out with each thrust that hit his prostate.

It could have been moments or hours of pushing into Eames’ silky heat, licking the sweat along his spine, biting down to feel Eames shudder around him; Arthur found he'd lost track of time. When he felt himself about to lose all control, he reached around and roughly jacked Eames’ dripping cock once, twice, and then Eames was convulsing around him, almost painfully gripping Arthur as he came apart, crying out wildly.

Arthur lasted barely a breath longer before coming hard enough that his vision blacked out momentarily. He blinked back to himself as Saito nuzzled along the length of Eames’ stretched body. “I would like to move him, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded and drew himself out of Eames, leaning against his back to breathe, silencing Eames’ broken pleas by pushing two fingers of his clean hand into Eames’ mouth for him to suck. When he had himself back under control, he nodded to Saito and stepped back, slipping his fingers out of Eames’ mouth.

Saito curled Eames into one of his paws almost like a child, letting him draw his limbs in to rest. He neatly sliced the ropes away from Eames’ wrists with a delicate claw and nuzzled him from throat to ankle. “Better,” he rumbled. Eames trembled and held on to his paw, eyes closed.

Arthur stepped in to take Eames’ face in his hands and look him over. Eames opened his eyes and Arthur was startled to find them entirely a deep blue-green, no whites at all, each pupil an immense black well in the middle.

“You did well, Arthur,” Saito murmured. “You are easing his change.”

“It’s happening now?”

“Soon. This is merely a reminder; the true change will happen with immersion in the sea. It will be easier this way. I was afraid he would fight it this time.”

“That makes it worse?”

“Yes,” Eames growled unsteadily as he reached out for Arthur.

Arthur leaned into his embrace and held him tightly. “Then don't fight it, idiot.”

“Don't want to leave you.” Eames’ voice was rough, and Arthur felt a very slight texture to the skin of his back.

“Eames.”

Eames stared at him, his gaze disconcerting. “If my change doesn't scare you off…”

“It won't,” Arthur said flatly.

Eames gave him that crooked smile that Arthur loved so much. “I'm not pretty like Saito here, love. Don't make any promises you might not be willing to keep.”

Arthur sighed with resigned patience. “Eames.”

Eames shook his head. “Wait and see,” he said, turning his face to hide against Saito’s scales.

Saito rubbed reassurance against Arthur’s back and laid Eames down in the middle of the bedding. Arthur settled around him, wrapping around him as much as possible while Saito delicately rose and slipped out into the garden. They wound up tucked against each other, fingers entwined and legs tangled, breaths mingling as they drifted off into sleep.

Arthur woke to Eames’ hands on his face. He opened his eyes and blinked at the further changes that were already evident - Eames’ eyes were huge and dark, his jaw subtly different and his lips still full but elongated, promising a mouth that opened much wider than normal. His skin was textured with tiny fine scales and his fingers, longer than before, ended in black claws.

Arthur ran wondering fingertips over Eames’ mouth, and his jaw hinged slightly, splitting open from almost ear to ear, revealing an abundance of long, needle-pointed teeth.

Arthur grinned. “Jesus, Eames. All the better to eat me with?”

Eames leaned down to touch his forehead to Arthur's, then tugged at his hand.

“Time?”

Eames nodded, pulling him to his feet with a startling strength, then tugging him out of the room, out of the house, and down to a boat dock. Saito, in human form, was waiting for them, standing at the wheel of a small powerboat. He offered Arthur a dark indigo yukata robe and obi belt that matched his own, but left Eames to stand naked and stare ahead at the open sea with clawed hands twitching.

As Saito steered them out into open water, Arthur moved to stand next to Eames. Eames pulled him into his arms, Arthur's back to his front, and shivered eagerly, his breath hissing through the jagged predator’s teeth next to Arthur's ear. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned back, gathering every scrap of sensation he could, the coolness of Eames’ cheek and jaw against his, the restless twitches of the body surrounding him, the subtle shift of Eames’ normal scent to something wilder.

“Here,” Saito finally said, slowing the boat to a halt and turning off the motors.

They were out of sight of land, and there were no other vessels in view. The quiet slap of waves against the hull was the only sound as the boat rocked gently.

Eames tugged at Arthur's yukata and looked pleadingly at Saito, who smiled and nodded. “Arthur, please undress and take these swim goggles with you into the water so you can see.”

Arthur glanced at Eames’ urgent expression and did as he was bid, slipping over the side of the boat to float naked in the cold sea and look up at Eames as he put on the goggles.

Saito placed one hand on Eames’ shoulder and squeezed gently; Eames’ brow furrowed as he stared down at Arthur, clearly worried.

“Eames,” Arthur said calmly. “It's time. Stop fucking around.”

His eyes lightened and his jaw hinged open, and he made a rasping noise that it took Arthur a moment to identify as a laugh. Then he leaned over and dove into the water with barely a ripple.

Arthur dipped his face under and found Eames staring up at him from a body length or so beneath him.

Below his waist, he somewhat resembled a giant sea snake, banded in wide stripes, metallic black and iridescent blue-green. He was easily over ten meters long from sleek head to the tip of his finned tail, and bore long black, dangerous-looking, spiny fins with short filmy black streamers along the dorsal line of his elongated body. Arthur had no doubt they were venomous as well as decorative. Just below his waist was a pair of graceful pelvic fins.

From the waist up, he still resembled the man Arthur had always known, though his tattoos were gone; he had instead a subtle shaded striping along his shoulders and back to match the dark filmy fin that marched up his back. Gill slits rippled down his ribs and his hands bore claws almost as long as his fingers. His eyes were dark and enormous, no whites visible past the shadowed shards of cobalt blue and forest green and stormy grey. His still elegantly shaped jaw and razor-edged teeth were clearly designed for snapping up prey and tearing them into chunks, and Arthur realized he would have no capacity for speech in this form.

He was an oceanic predator and he was terrifying and utterly magnificent. Eames floated a little closer, peering at Arthur's face, and Arthur held out his hand. The slightest movement of that long gorgeously striped body and Eames was suddenly right there, face to face, and Arthur reached out to stroke along Eames’ shoulder and throat. _Beautiful_, he mouthed.

Eames coiled about Arthur once, a brush of cool scales, flattened his palm over Arthur's chest and touched his own mouth, and then was gone, flashing into the depths faster than Arthur’s eyes could follow.

Arthur lifted his head above the surface to breathe and met Saito's gaze. He pulled off the goggles and was mildly astonished to find himself smiling even as tears ran down his face. “You didn't warn me that he was so beautiful.”

Saito smiled back and pulled him up into the boat with unnatural ease, wrapping the yukata back around his shivering form. “I knew it would not be necessary.”

_Amazing artwork from **TheMonsterForge**  
[@TheForgess on Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheForgess)  
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* * *

Saito brought Arthur back to Tokyo with him the next day, briskly overriding Arthur’s polite protests as they settled into the back of the car. “You are under my care for the time being, and I have work I shall demand of you.” He displayed his normal, slight, predatory human smile. “I have long wanted an excuse to co-opt your services, Arthur, however temporarily.”

“I…should no doubt be flattered. I find myself somewhat apprehensive, however.”

Saito grinned and laughed and Arthur remembered overhearing Eames’s phone call from Seattle. “Eames was right. You, laughing, as a human, is very disturbing. Please stop.”

“Ahh, Arthur.” Saito rubbed at the side of his nose even as his eyes crinkled at the outside corners. “You will be dreadful for my dignity. I must insist on at least a show of fear before my subordinates.”

“I'm not sure cowering is in my repertoire,” Arthur said dryly.

“Hmm. Distressing indeed. Do you think you can manage polite disquiet?”

“Will you settle for respectful tolerance with an overlay of impatience?”

Saito laughed again. “I would settle for you standing at my shoulder with your dour scowl turned on those who displease me.”

Arthur blinked. “Are you asking me to work for you openly?”

“I would be foolish not to ask. Our reputations, combined, would be formidably intimidating if not outright terrifying. Who would dare refuse us anything?”

“I think you may be exaggerating slightly.”

“Arthur. You are one of the most feared men in dreamsharing, and rightly so. There are mythological swords made by legendary craftsmen that are spoken of with less reverence and dread than the whispers of your name.”

“Now you’re exaggerating greatly. I don't work alone, and the individuals of a team determine how well things will go.”

“Are you not responsible for the research, for the coordination of the team, for double-checking and triple-checking all details? Do you not oversee the selection of the team members? Do you ever go into an assignment with any less than three backup plans? Should I fail to mention that you are one of the most physically competent and dangerous humans I know? I hardly think I can exaggerate beyond the truth of you.”

“Saito. Literally _no one_ could live up to that reputation.”

Saito bared his teeth in a slow and terrifying smile that Arthur decided was specifically designed to bring board members to their knees in despair. “But is that not what a reputation is _for_, Arthur?”

Arthur sighed. “Since there's not the slightest chance in hell that anyone’s going to believe you turn into a humongous cuddlemonster in your spare time...”

Saito looked torn for a moment between offended indignation and amusement, then snorted and settled back in the car seat. “You and Eames are remarkably well-suited for each other.”

Arthur looked out the car window at the scenery flying by, jaw clenched.

“Arthur.” Saito's firm voice drew his attention. He schooled his face to calm and turned. “You will see him before the year is up, though he will not be able to leave the water before that time.” Arthur frowned at him and Saito laughed softly. “Even with all of the world’s oceans at his disposal, our little fish gets bored. Only humanity has ever held his interest for long. And of all the humans he has met, only _you_ have held his interest for longer than a few weeks or months. And now he has trusted you with his born shape, as he has chosen you for his chosen shape.” Saito shrugged with a small wry smile. “He will not spend all his time in the depths - perhaps ten or eleven months or so before he begins haunting the coast, eager to return from the sea. And I am having a place prepared where you and he shall safely stay. But in the meantime, I feel I must keep you busy, and I may as well do that to my benefit, yes?”

“Are you terrifying because you're a dragon or because you're Saito?”

“You have thus far entirely failed to be terrified,” Saito said dryly.

“In the interests of precision, there was that one moment when you changed…”

“Are we speaking of the moment in which you almost instantly mastered your body’s reaction and began a rational calculation of your options?”

Arthur glanced away, pushing down his pleasure at the compliments.

Saito sighed, eyes crinkling. “I see why our little fish enjoys pushing your buttons so. You make eliciting a reaction entirely too rewarding.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to explain the little fish thing?”

“Perhaps tonight. I will make a bedtime story of it to tell you while you fall asleep with me.”

“I…”

“You did not sleep last night after we returned to the shore. I watched you wander the garden alone and left you to your grief, but you will sleep tonight and I will ensure it.”

“This is the cuddlemonster thing, right? Not sex.”

Saito regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment, but Arthur knew there was no offense in that straightforward stare. “As a dragon, my desires are entirely sensual, not sexual. And even were you interested in this human form of mine, beyond simple aesthetics, my tastes in human sexuality demand a submission I think you would find it difficult to provide. Though you might enjoy watching occasionally should you desire it; I believe our preferences run in similar channels.”

“I can't believe I'm arguing this point, but Eames and I do switch off quite a bit.”

Saito smiled at him, turning in the seat to reach out and gently brush the back of his hand against Arthur's cheek, then suddenly slid his hand around the back of Arthur's neck into his hair, twisting a handful into a grip and yanking Arthur towards him. Arthur froze with his hand on the gun in his holster, staring at Saito from centimeters away.

Completely unruffled, Saito let Arthur's hair slide free, smoothing it down and bringing his other hand up to cradle Arthur's face, studying him, then nodded.

“Not compatible,” he said firmly. “Even were you not emotionally entangled.”

Arthur relaxed, suddenly tired, and let his head come forward to rest on Saito's shoulder. “I don't think the demonstration was entirely necessary,” he said into the fabric of Saito's suit jacket.

“Ah, but so much more efficient than a drawn-out conversation, yes?” Saito said with amusement.

Arthur sighed as what felt like weeks’ worth of exhaustion descended on him all at once.

“A nap, Arthur,” Saito ordered, tugging him gently but inexorably into laying on the seat, stronger than Arthur expected. He allowed it, head resting on Saito's thigh and facing the front of the car while Saito ran soothing fingers through Arthur's hair. “You will need to sleep a great deal for the next few days.”

Arthur huffed in tired exasperation. “I'm not a child.”

“No,” Saito murmured, delicately closing his eyelids with butterfly-light fingertips. “You are a finely honed weapon that has been dulled with unending use. All you require is rest to re-sharpen you. So sleep now, regain your edge and point, that you may be dangerous in my service.”

Arthur wanted to protest the flowery description but found himself drifting off instead, letting Saito's touch and the motion of the car ease him into sleep.

He woke when Saito said his name and sat up to find the car entering the garage of an office tower.

Saito took Arthur's chin in hand and looked him over carefully. “Better,” he said, nodding.

“I slept through Tokyo traffic,” Arthur said wryly. “I'd better be better.”

“We will briefly join a meeting of my advisors so I may introduce you.”

Arthur's mouth quirked. “So we can watch for flashes of recognition and fear and compare notes later?”

Saito's eyes crinkled at the corners, though his mouth was still. “You will drive me to further compliments, Arthur.”

Arthur smoothed out his expression to watch two men and a woman, all well-armed, approach the car as it parked.

“Part of my bodyguard,” Saito said. “Known. Trusted.”

Arthur nodded and let him out first before emerging to straighten his suit, brushing it down and tugging it and his weaponry into place. Then he and the bodyguards exchanged down and up assessments and nods, and Arthur fell into step behind and to one side of Saito. The three bodyguards took the other three corners of the protective square around Saito as if they and Arthur had been working together for years. Their synergy was so complete that no one took any special notice of Arthur as Saito swept his way through the building to the conference room.

All attention was on Saito from the moment the doors opened to admit them, and Arthur carefully considered each person in the room as Saito was formally greeted. He stepped forward at Saito's gesture and Saito switched from Japanese to English to introduce Arthur. Arthur kept his face utterly still; Saito knew very well that Arthur spoke quite good Japanese, but wanted these associates, these advisors, to underestimate him if possible.

“This is Arthur, who will be assisting me for the foreseeable future,” Saito said serenely. “I urge you to give him your full assistance with any request he may have.”

Arthur glanced casually around the room at the faces there before bowing politely and then Saito was expressing mild regret that business kept him from staying for the meeting and they left, heading down a private hallway.

Arthur took a sip of very fine sake as he settled onto a cushion at the low table with a brand new laptop Saito had handed him from a cabinet in his office. He booted the machine to a tiny drive he'd plugged in and began installing his customized operating system. “Two alarmed, one amused, three mildly trepidatious, one outright panicked, five with no clear reaction. This sake is delicious, Saito, which kura brewed this?”

Saito watched him work with a faint smile. “It is a private batch, but I will ensure that it is available to you as you wish. I concur with your assessments. Let me know when you are ready and I will give you full entry into our systems.”

Arthur's fingers stilled on the keyboard and he looked over at Saito, his face expressionless. “I don't think that much access is strictly necessary.”

“Arthur.” Saito's voice took on a purr. “Should I trust you with my true form but not mundane business secrets?”

Arthur settled his hands in his lap, looking very serious. “Few would believe in your true form, but I could do near-infinite amounts of damage with your company secrets.”

“You could. Would you?” Saito sipped at his own sake, watching Arthur with open affection.

“I would not choose to, no,” Arthur said carefully. “But no one is proof against torture, or threats to…” He broke off, his face remaining calm.

Saito studied him for a long moment, then set his cup down. “I am not very hungry. Are you?” When Arthur shook his head, he rose gracefully to his feet. “Then we shall retire for the evening. We have much to discuss, and I shall be able to set your mind at ease for some subjects.”

Arthur frowned slightly but followed, closing the laptop and bringing it with him. When he stepped into the bedroom, Saito nodded to him and _shifted_, his dragon form appearing faster than a blink. Arthur exhaled and did his best to shut down his racing thoughts. He'd been with human Saito all day and his brain wanted to do that uncomfortable stutter of disbelief. And then he remembered Eames was gone, changed, and his breath caught before he could shove the reaction down. He felt a flicker of frustrated fury at his current lack of self-control and knew Saito saw it.

The dragon flowed around him, taking the laptop firmly from his hand and placing it on a shelf, and then started undressing him. Arthur protested and Saito huffed an amused breath into his face as he lightly smacked Arthur's hands away. “You hold yourself to a higher standard…stop that, let me…than any reasonable person would…let that go and stay still…or could, especially in the face of such upheaval…must I hold you still?…and then berate yourself for failing…Arthur, I will not warn you again…such impossible criteria. Gods and ancestors, you are a difficult creature.” Saito took Arthur's clothing to a closet and hung them neatly, leaving Arthur standing naked in the middle of the bedding.

“Speaking of difficult creatures,” Arthur said with exasperation, Saito turning to regard him with an unrepentant satisfaction, “I don't believe I have ever been handled so.”

Saito _smirked_, there was no other word Arthur could use for his expression. “Believe me that you would prefer to be so handled by this form and not by my human one. I would not have been able to be so gentle in the face of your stubbornness and I am far stronger than you in either form.”

Arthur glared at him. “I'm not feeling relaxed and ready for cuddling.”

The dragon threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, little knife, you wound me so!”

“No nicknames.” Arthur crossed his arms and set his jaw.

Saito scooped him into a massive paw and curled around him, leaving him supported amid coils of warm silken dragon. “Stubborn Arthur,” he murmured, nuzzling him from head to toe. “Remarkable Arthur. Eames’ treasure. If you can not stop struggling with yourself, I must help you.”

Arthur flailed for a moment, trying to escape. “Saito, what does that even mean? What’re you…”

Saito began licking him, like a cat soothing a kitten; long firm strokes of the soft, mostly dry, tongue that was bigger than Arthur's arm. Despite the indignity of it, it was more soothing than any massage Arthur had ever experienced. Saito cradled him in his paws, keeping him still and warm and turning him as necessary, working down the front of his body and up the back. Arthur was face-down and limp in Saito's paws when the dragon finally finished.

Saito nuzzled along his back and shoulders. “Better,” he pronounced with satisfaction.

Arthur groaned weakly into the paw supporting him. “Oh god, what is my life right now?”

“Hush, little knife.”

Without lifting his head, Arthur raised a heavy arm and pointed in the general direction of Saito’s face. “No,” he said as firmly as he could manage.

Saito chuckled, settling Arthur comfortably amid his coils. Arthur let his head loll back against the dragon and scowled at him. “You're a bully,” he accused.

“Hmm. Benevolent dictator, perhaps.”

“Don't be self-delusional. I thought you were going to set my mind at ease, not weird me out until I gave in.”

Saito snorted. “Now who is being self-delusional?” Then he sighed gustily, and Arthur briefly wondered what the dragon ate to give him such sweet breath. “As easily as you are taking this, it is difficult to remember that you know nothing of our world at all. Until you have a small reaction that I should have foreseen and circumvented. Arthur, it has literally been ages since a human has known me so, and none have handled it so well.” Saito made a scornful noise. “There is usually much more shouting and running and violence. You are quite restful in comparison.”

“Thank you,” Arthur answered dryly. “Restful is what I’ve always striven to achieve.”

Saito laughed and dropped his jaw in a draconic grin. “You see? You are a delight.” He settled his head alongside Arthur’s body and Arthur acknowledged the implicit request and scratched and rubbed along the brow ridges and cheeks.

Saito sighed in pleasure. “To set your mind at ease - your Eames is far more resilient and more difficult to injure than a human, no matter what form he is in. And though he hides it well, he is far stronger and also heals much faster. Physically, you have little to worry you if he is threatened because of you.” His ear flicked and twitched involuntarily as Arthur rubbed along the base. “Mmm, yes, right there please. You are also under my not-inconsiderable protection, which I will provide for your entire lifetime if you will just scratch harder at that exact spot…mmmmm.”

“You have claws, Saito,” Arthur snorted. “You don't have to offer irrational bargains to have an itch scratched.”

“Mmm, but you know the difference between your own hand and Eames’, even in a casual touch, do you not?”

“…all right, fair point.”

“You are strong and have carved a life for yourself, much of which involves care for and support of others, no matter that you have always kept them at a safe distance. And then comes Eames, who manages to entwine himself inextricably in your life. I know you fought that for years; he would come here and bemoan the cruelty of fate after every rebuffed attempt. Mmm, right there, again, harder.”

Arthur snorted quietly and obeyed as Saito tilted his head for easier access.

“And when you finally accepted him, you accepted that you now had a hostage to fate, and has that not been a terrifying weight on you, Arthur? That something so precious, so impossible to replace, the loss of which would tear you asunder, was not under your complete control?”

He let out a shocked breath, his body freezing, hearing his heart laid out like that.

“And yet,” Saito rumbled, lifting his head and looking down at Arthur. “And yet, you did not try to control him. You did not try to rein him in, keep him close to you. You let him have his freedom to roam, to wander, hoping he would always wander back to you. You never told him of your fears, your dread, knowing he would restrict himself if he knew.”

Arthur stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“Arthur.” Saito dropped his muzzle to gently rub his chest. “You very nearly let him go for a year without knowing where or why, and whether he would even return to you after. And do you still wonder why we trust you with our secrets?”

Arthur turned away, hiding his face against Saito's body, curled in on himself.

“No, Arthur, none of that.” Saito carefully straightened him out of his huddle, one claw keeping his chin up to meet the dragon’s softly glowing eyes.

“How do you _know_ this?” Arthur whispered.

“I have lived among and watched humanity for a very long time.” He blinked and then presented one twitching ear to Arthur. “And I know what is important. Right now, it is urgent that you attend to…yes, right there…mmmm.”

Arthur huffed a tired laugh and leaned against Saito's head, scratching dutifully.

“Have I soothed any of your fears for the future, my knife?”

He sighed. “I'm not going to be able to stop you from calling me that, am I?”

“You need not answer to it, of course,” Saito pointed out generously.

“Saito.”

“Let me tell you the story of my little fish.”

“You know, that was a really crappy segue.”

“Do you wish to hear it?”

Arthur sighed again. “You know I do.”

Saito arranged him into a comfortable sleeping position along his body, curving to nestle against him on both sides, and Arthur almost unconsciously snuggled into the warmth the dragon gave off.

“Dragons,” Saito began softly, laying his head over his own body to shelter Arthur in a dark, warm cave, “are equally at home in the water as on land. And so, as is usual for me, I had taken myself to the sea for a lengthy swim, which is admirable exercise as well as being quite healthy for my scales. You may have noticed the very fine tuft at the end of my tail,” he said, presenting said tuft with a flourish. “Well, such a fine tuft attracted other notice that day, and it came to pass, as I was swimming, that there was a nip, a pinch, a tiny tug on my tuft. I am certain that you can imagine the indignity of such a thing.”

Arthur found himself laughing softly, picturing the probable reaction of the very feline dragon.

“I immediately lifted my tail from the water to demand an explanation of such impropriety and found myself the recipient of a huge-eyed stare from the tiny merchild clutching my tuft in one hand and hanging in mid-air, gasping desperately in his first time out of water but still holding on with a stubbornness I have long had cause to regret. I immediately dunked him back under the surface and attempted to shake him free but he would not let go. I slipped under water entirely and brought my tail to my face to scowl at him, only to find him scowling back. I blinked and he blinked. I frowned and he frowned. I growled, shaking the water around us mightily and he laughed, reaching for my teeth. “Little fish,” I thundered, “do you not fear me?” He shook his head and wound himself around my leg, snuggling there as if he never meant to leave. “I cannot stay,” I exclaimed. “I have important business on land that I must attend to, and you cannot come with me.” The merchild gave me the saddest glare I have ever seen.”

Arthur laughed again because he was very familiar with that expression from Eames’ attempts to use it on him.

“Of course I gave in eventually, and promised to return to visit him and perhaps tell him stories of the dryfolk, those who stalk about on stiff limbs rather than swim with a elegant undulation.”

“But you're not prejudiced or anything,” Arthur murmured with a smile.

Saito snorted. “He was gratifyingly attentive to my stories; my visits became frequent and his desires grew, and soon I took him to ask the sea for a favor and she granted it. Stubborn and independent as he was, he wished to make his own way in the world and so he chose the shores of England on which to take his first true breath of air.”

The dragon sighed. “I watched over him without interference, though at times it was very challenging. But our little fish has done well, for all that he often chose the hardest way. Beginning with the offense to my tuft, of course.”

Arthur smiled and reached up to scratch under Saito's jaw. “Your dignity made it intact. But that wasn't a very long story.”

“It was a bedtime story. If it were long, it would defeat the purpose of lulling you to sleep. Don't stop.”

“Well, I'm still awake,” Arthur said, biting his lip to avoid laughing at Saito's grumbling purr.

“Is this a request for another bedtime story?”

“Should I stop scratching?”

“You are a hard and cruel man, to take such advantage of a poor touch-starved dragon,” Saito said mournfully.

Arthur took his hand away and Saito chuckled. “Very well, since I am indulging you shamelessly…”

“Wait, which one of us was forcibly stripped, held down and licked all over, and shoved into a dark cave made of a living dragon again?”

Saito laughed hard, his entire body shaking. “If you wish to look at it that way…”

“Yeah, I thought so. Just make with the bedtime story already.” Arthur forced down a yawn.

“Hmm. Then I think I will speak more about dragons.”

Arthur nodded and stretched, then settled.

“There are as many legends about the beginnings of dragons as there are human cultures, and some of them have been traded back and forth until no one knows the true origin of the story, except, of course, the dragons themselves. There is a very famous story, said to be from China, about the creation of a golden dragon.”

“This is about you, isn't it?” Arthur asked drowsily.

“Certainly not; it is simply a story. Pay attention, little knife. There was a river, and in this river there lived many koi, swimming endlessly upstream and down. Now down the river eventually lead to the sea, and as koi are not able to live long in saltwater, so the koi would swim down the river and then be forced to turn and swim back up. But up river had a boundary as well, a beautiful but quite sizable waterfall. Well, koi are not the brightest of the creatures in the world, and being curious, they would often throw themselves up the waterfall in an attempt to pass it. None succeeded, of course, as any rational creature will tell you.”

“So there's not much to this story, either.”

Saito huffed in mock exasperation. “Very well, we shall simply go to sleep. Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled to himself, but said meekly, “I'm sorry, Saito, please continue.”

“Hmm. Well then. Among the koi was a rather stubborn but quite beautiful golden koi who could think of nothing else but what might be up river, on the other side of the waterfall.”

“This _is_ about you.”

“Arthur…” Saito growled warningly and Arthur, rather appallingly, found himself tempted to giggle.

He bit his lips together and reached up to scratch under the dragon's chin. “Sorry, Saito.”

“Indeed. This rather stupid koi, remarkable even among a rather stupid species, who bears very little resemblance to the magnificence currently wrapped around you, would not leave the vicinity of the waterfall, but continued to throw himself up the waterfall, only pausing between attempts to rest and eat. Now koi are blessed with indeterminate growth, which means…?”

“That they continue to grow as they age,” Arthur recited obediently.

Saito chuckled. “Yes. And so this koi continued to grow as he attempted the waterfall over and over again. And eventually, after a hundred long years, the foolish thing grew large enough and strong enough from his many attempts and finally, in a mighty and desperate leap, made it up and over the waterfall. Now, in the story as it is told by humans, the gods rewarded the golden koi for his determination and turned him into a magnificent golden dragon. And so it is that koi are a symbol of perseverance to this day.”

Saito gave a soft laugh as Arthur yawned hugely. “But I will tell you a secret, Arthur. The truth of the story is that the gods did _not_ reward the koi for perseverance. Instead they took pity on the stupid single-minded thing and decided that something better could be made with such material. And thus, a golden dragon.”

Arthur yawned again and closed his eyes. “I like your bedtime stories,” he said sleepily and drifted off, tucked securely against the warm living body of a purring golden dragon.

* * *

Working with Saito was not all kittenish cuddles; his reputation for fast-moving ruthlessness was well-deserved. Arthur was immersed in research most days, honing his already considerable skills to a speed and effectiveness that was terrifying to those he hunted.

When he wasn't chasing down data trails, Arthur physically stalked board meetings and corporate takeovers in Saito's wake, customarily hidden in plain view as one of a set of well-dressed bodyguards. He began to train Saito's team of bodyguards in dreamsharing, which they took to with an alarming speed and zest. They also took to him easily, folding him into their patterns and processes, and even inviting him to join their training.

After having his ass handed to him over and over during the initial sparring sessions, Arthur found himself staring at the exquisite wooden ceiling of the training room from where he was laying on the floor. Again.

Saito stepped into view, looking down at him with his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Arthur gave him an even look back. “Am I the only human in this room?”

Saito inclined his head and Yukiko, his lead bodyguard, a tiny sleek woman Arthur had immediately been wary of upon first meeting, laughed. “You were right, Saito-san. It took him less than fifteen minutes to figure it out.”

“Six throws, though,” her towering second-in-command mused softly. He rubbed his scarred cheek thoughtfully as he leaned to offer Arthur a hand up. “Not sure what that does to the betting pool.”

Arthur took the offered hand and was pulled far too easily to his feet, the top of his head barely reaching the man’s collarbones.

“I apologize for not providing a better challenge,” he said dryly.

The second, Daisuke, gave him a solemn look. He rarely spoke, used his height and bulk and visible scarring to intimidate, but Arthur had found him to be far less menacing than sweetly smiling Yukiko, the team lead.

“Wasn't holding back much,” Daisuke shrugged.

“At all, really,” Yukiko grinned at them both, giving Arthur an exaggerated look over.

“He still lost,” Saito pointed out helpfully.

Yukiko flapped her hand in dismissal. “But all his limbs are still attached and the important organs are all still in place.”

Daisuke nodded. “Not bad.”

“Still want to train with us?” Yukiko flashed a feral grin.

Arthur was brushing off his training clothes and paused to look at her with one of his best point man expressions - a faintly furrowed brow, as if he were mildly disappointed in her and wondering whether she was still of use. “Is there any other way to improve?”

She barked a laugh and gestured two others of the team over, then pointed a finger at Saito. “Will you be joining us for training today, Saito-san? Or are you going to skive off again and leave all the burden to your poor meatshields?”

Saito raised a cool eyebrow, which Arthur read as his version of horrified distaste. “Have you been watching American television again?”

She bared her teeth at him. “Allow me to re-phrase. Saito-san, kindly put on a training uniform and return your backside to the training floor.”

“You see how bullied I am by my own staff, Arthur. How can you conceivably have any respect for me?”

Arthur regarded him warily, then turned to Yukiko. “I'm not sparring with him until he's burned off some of that.”

Yukiko tossed her head back, laughing, and even Daisuke smiled and rubbed his nose.

When Saito returned to the training floor, everyone cleared back to the walls. He and Yukiko bowed to each other and then both attacked. Arthur was momentarily stunned to see Saito go flying, but he reversed himself as soon as he'd touched the floor and dove back towards Yukiko with an unholy light in his eyes. Then Daisuke patted Arthur's shoulder and stepped into what was by now, unmistakably, a fray. All three moved faster than human, were stronger than human, took blows that would have broken and torn a human.

Arthur watched intently, studying each fighter and strategising against future need, seeking habits and weaknesses. Saito and Daisuke worked together against Yukiko and still could not overcome her. For all her diminutive size, she had extraordinary skill and the fierceness of a…dragon. Arthur narrowed his gaze at her, watching how she used her body, following very similar patterns to the faintly weaving, undulating motions Saito employed, if far more feral.

She laughed and Saito flashed a savage grin. “My knife has figured you out.”

“Good! I was feeling itchy anyway,” she growled and they shifted mid-strike, one golden dragon and one white with delicate black accents, slightly smaller and more slender.

Daisuke roared and was replaced with the biggest bear he'd ever seen, over three meters tall when standing and moving faster than any natural animal could. His fur was also a rather startling shade of emerald green.

The three tangled and fought until Daisuke was thrown out of the mêlée, crashing into a wall as the other bodyguards stepped neatly aside. He shifted back to human and Arthur saw him laughing for the first time as he pushed to his feet and stretched.

“Oh, that's _better_,” he said, coming to stand behind Arthur, draping his forearms over Arthur's shoulders and resting his chin on top of Arthur's head. Arthur could tell there was nothing seductive about the embrace, just something similar to Saito's touch hunger.

“Is it humans that get you all so touchy-feely or is it shifting?” Arthur asked wryly, patting Daisuke’s hands where they crossed over his chest. Before all this, only Eames had touched him so freely. It wasn't terrible, just…something he was still getting used to.

“Mmm, I think it is just you, little knife.”

“Hey, no. I can't stop Saito from calling me nicknames, but no one else is allowed. And especially not that.”

Daisuke chuckled deeply against Arthur's back and rubbed Arthur's chest in a soothing fashion. “And how will you stop me, little…very well, Arthur, please release my testicles and I promise to use no more diminutives.”

The two dragons fell into a tangled lump of laughter before they shifted back to human and there were muted snickers from the others around the room.

Saito regarded Arthur with a delighted possessiveness that warmed a deeply buried desolate spot within him. He had been, of necessity, self-sufficient from a very early age, and had built his entire dream career on being reliable and taking care of his team, as well as being too dangerous to safely cross, another form of protection for his people. And although he didn't mind the fear his reputation tended to generate, he had rarely received outright approval or gratitude or validation for his efforts, and, until Eames was hopelessly woven into his life, he had never had anyone but himself to take pride in him.

He'd thought he'd moved well beyond wanting that, but the warmth of Saito's regard, the welcome of his guards, eased a tight knot in him until he was abruptly uneasy at how much he wanted it, and disturbed at the thought that he might come to be dependent on such an addictive feeling. He already felt unstably balanced over the chasm that Eames had left behind; not knowing whether the separation was indeed temporary, or whether Eames would return from the sea looking for something, someone, new. He had only hope, and that was painful enough. The thought of making such powerful new connections and risking their loss almost overwhelmed him for a moment.

He shoved it all down and gave Daisuke a more-or-less gentle elbow to the ribs and moved off to spar with another guard. 

Later that evening, he was curled on a sofa with his laptop in Saito's suite when Saito returned from a meeting, picked Arthur up by an arm with inhuman strength, and deposited him to kneel on a cushion.

“This is new,” Arthur said dryly as Saito dropped to kneel up behind him, pressed against his back, one hand coming around to hold Arthur's chin and tip his head back against Saito’s collarbone and the other coming to rest over Arthur's diaphragm.

Arthur did his best to relax but his heart was beating faster, the physical proximity and position of Saito's human body disturbing where his dragon form caused no such reaction.

“I thought we agreed that this didn't work for us, even if I weren't emotionally entangled,” Arthur said, striving for a steady tone, as the silence stretched on. He fought the temptation to reach up and take hold of Saito's arm, keeping his hands on his thighs, though his fingers tensed against the fabric of his trousers.

Saito breathed slowly against his back, warm and solid, and his hand pressed lightly over Arthur's diaphragm in the same rhythm, bringing his attention to his breathing. He found himself falling into the pattern of Saito's slow breaths and eventually drifted a little, his eyes closing.

“Arthur,” Saito murmured, quiet and soft and warm and safe. Arthur was distantly surprised to find he was fully relaxed in Saito’s strange embrace. “You trust me.”

Arthur sighed and let his mouth curl up slightly. “Yes.”

Saito’s voice, a gentle rumble against his back, was affectionate. “My people, myself, your Eames - we are a tightly knit and secretive clan.”

Arthur hmm’d a quiet acknowledgement of that.

“We trust you. We believe the knowledge of our existence is safe with you.”

Arthur thought about that for a long moment, shifting his chin in Saito's hand, a little uncomfortable.

Saito's fingers brushed a reassuring caress along his jawline. “And there it is - the same reaction as before. You remember our discussion of your discomfort with having full access to our corporate systems?”

Arthur suddenly needed to laugh, hands coming up to clutch at Saito's arms. “Oh god, is this where you strip me and lick me into submission again?”

He felt Saito huff his amusement against his hair. “That would take a much longer time in this form. And may I remind you that you are not particularly submissive to me?” He snorted decorously. “Much to the delight of my guards, I might add.”

“You seem to have me pretty damn pliant right now,” he sighed, dropping his hands to his thighs again.

“Arthur. I know that you recognize the difference between sexual submissiveness and accepting physical comfort. Right now I am signaling your body that it is safe. Were I to try to bend you over the table, you would immediately lose your relaxation.”

“All right. Why do I need to feel safe right now?”

Saito pressed at his diaphragm gently, released, encouraging a deep breath. “Because you reacted badly to thoughts of belonging earlier, on the training floor. No, breathe, Arthur.” His voice turned a little stern and the hand on Arthur's stomach began rubbing slow circles. “Just listen, yes?”

Arthur took a very deep breath and nodded slightly. Saito continued to rub his stomach and caress his jawline, warm and reassuring against Arthur's back, and Arthur felt a little like a child, if one that was very cherished.

“We are claiming you as part of our clan. You will never again be forced to stand on your own. You will never again be unprotected. You will never again be alone, unless you wish it. And I know that this is hard for you to hear and accept, but you belong with us now, Arthur, my knife, our treasured and rare and remarkable human. You are ours.”

And Arthur had no defenses against the surge inside him if he couldn't run away, and closed his eyes against a pain similar to having a badly-healed bone re-broken and set to heal properly.

“Why?” he finally whispered.

“Because we want you. Because you belong with us, are now a part of us. And, like your Eames, we will not be denied.” Saito held him, and soothed him, and breathed with him, and Arthur gradually relaxed again.

“All right.” He opened his eyes, adjusting to the fresh seismic upheaval in his existence, knowing it had not even begun to settle, would keep him off balance for a long time yet. “Thank you, I guess?”

Saito laughed.

* * *

“A challenge, Arthur!” Yukiko sang out as he emerged onto the training floor the next day.

He bowed respectfully to her, then put his back to the wall. “Yes?” he asked warily.

She smirked at him, gesturing the other guards over to line up. “Saito-san says you have been researching obake yōkai.”

“I…yes. It would be rude to remain ignorant of those who have honored me so.”

“Such fine, polite words, Arthur,” she teased, walking right up to poke him in the chest, ridiculously imposing despite having to cock her head to look up at him. He'd begun to think of her as an utterly ruthless older sister. “You have also been researching possible weaknesses and battle strategies against such supernatural shapeshifters, yes?”

“Of course.”

“And you have, of course, been observing us all closely as we spar.”

“Yes…”

“You know already that Saito-san and I are ryuu.”

“And that Daisuke is onikuma.” He glanced at Daisuke who nodded with a tiny smile. “Even if he is a bear of a rather fanciful color,” Arthur added, enjoying Daisuke's resultant scowl.

Yukiko snorted. “So we come to the challenge! You have not seen the true forms of the rest of us. I wish to see if you can identify which obake is which!”

In truth, Arthur had been considering just that thing, and he already had tentative identifications for almost all.

“As you like, Yukiko. I am at your disposal,” he said calmly.

“Hah! Yuuki?”

The tall lithe guard with reddish highlights in his long hair stepped forward and smirked at Arthur even as he bowed.

Arthur shook his head with a small smile. “So you’re starting with the easiest? For a kitsune, Yuuki, you're surprisingly obvious. I would’ve expected a fox to hide his nature better.” His eyes lingered on the iridescent pearl-like gem dangling from Yuuki’s ear.

Yuuki shrugged, smiling, and shifted. “When you are this glorious…” he trailed off to turn, showing off four magnificent tails.

“Not the word I was thinking, unless you've just forgotten to put the ‘vain’ in front of it.”

Daisuke snorted. “He's got your number, Yuuki.”

Yukiko clapped her hands. “Takeshi!”

The dark, sturdy guard who was always first to turn toward danger stepped forward and bowed. His expression had seemed grim and reserved to Arthur when he'd first met him until he’d noticed the constant light in his eyes, a sly humor carefully hidden. He was always teaching during the sparring, making sure each move and countermove were completely understood.

He bowed back. “Ōkami are one of the most faithful of defenders, according to many of the stories. Am I correct, guardian wolf?”

Takeshi smiled and shifted, baring his massive canines. “You know you are.”

Yukiko sniffed. “Two out of five. Not bad so far. Haru!”

Arthur tilted his head as the most cheerful and smiling of the guards stepped forward, put his hands on his hips, and waggled his eyebrows. He reminded Arthur a little bit of Eames in his character, but it was his playful attitude during sparring that had lead Arthur to his guess.

“I believe that you're kawauso, Haru. I can't imagine you as anything other than an overgrown otter.”

“Overgrown!” Haru shifted, rolling over and grooming his belly with deft clawed paws. “I believe the word you meant was ‘sleek!’”

“Hmm,” Yukiko said, regarding Arthur narrowly. “Isamu!”

The stockiest guard stepped forward, running a hand through his short thick hair as he came to rest in a stable, firm stance. He rarely moved without purpose and his gaze was always piercing as he studied each new situation thoroughly, moving decisively and implacably once he'd made his assessment.

Arthur frowned lightly at him, knowing he'd take it correctly as chagrin and not dislike. “You have fewer tells than almost anyone else. I thought for some time you might be oni, but your behavior never seemed really consistent with an ogre-type yōkai. You have traits in common with Daisuke, but not enough to make me think you might be a bear.”

Isamu raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Yukiko grinned. “Are you admitting defeat?”

“I’ll offer my best guess,” Arthur said with a shrug. “Reading the legends of badger obake make me think that you might be mujina.”

Isamu’s eyes crinkled slightly and he bowed. “You are correct,” he said, low and pleased, and stepped forward as he shifted to nuzzle lightly at Arthur’s cheek, great clawed paws resting on Arthur's shoulders as he snuffled delicately around his face. “Well done.”

“Bah! You won't find Asami out,” Yukiko growled.

The only other female on the team stepped forward to smile at Arthur. She was his height but willowy, her long dark hair, accentuated with strands of shining silver, was almost always loose though no one ever managed to grab it and use it against her, and she was the fastest of all the guards, as well as the one most likely to inflict small cuts or bruises, seemingly deliberately. In spite of the dozens of barely-there slices he would always come away with, Arthur loved to spar with her because she pushed hardest at him, and took the most obvious delight when he improved.

She had fewer tells than any of the others, and Arthur suspected her true form was not animal-based. He'd researched the longest on her and had only the wildest of guesses to show for it.

He studied her for a long moment, only barely catching the subtle wink she gave him, and then the ends of her hair lifted infinitesimally in a non-existent breeze.

“Cheating!” Yukiko pointed a finger at Asami, who shook her head.

“He already suspected, Yuki-chan. I am merely confirming it. Out with it, little knife. What am I?”

“From you, sickle-wind, I will allow the nickname this one time. I name you kamaitachi, the whirlwind that cuts, the beast with knives for hands.”

She shifted and he was enveloped in a storm of whirling air and soft Aeolian sound that caressed his exposed skin, leaving the finest of white lines along his arms and hands, and one quick shallow slice up the side of his throat. Then she was human again and licking her fingertips, one of which had a trace of his blood. She winked again. “You do not disappoint, do you, Arthur?”

The other guards all applauded and Yukiko did her best to twist her grin into a scowl. “Fine, fine. Arthur, one last question. After all your research, how would you approach a fight with obake yōkai?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. “Fighting for my life, not sparring?” She nodded, and he shrugged. “With a sniper rifle and from as far away as I could get and still be accurate.”

Daisuke snorted, Yuuki and Haru fell over each other laughing, and even Isamu and Takeshi smiled.

“Would not work on me,” Asami said with a smirk.

“No,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “In your case, I'd guess I'd need a grenade launcher with airburst fragmentation rounds.”

Yukiko barked a laugh as Asami rolled her eyes and ducked her head to hide her pleased smile behind a curtain of black and silver hair.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, almost all of Saito’s guards showed promise as extractors. Saito and Yukiko shone at it, though Yuuki followed closely.

Daisuke and Haru excelled at the architecture of the dreams, though Haru’s tended to be far more whimsical than necessary most of the time.

Takeshi manifested the ability to become a variety of different canines in dreams, a type of forging Arthur had only seen Eames accomplish before. Taking on an animal shape seemed to be beyond most forgers’ capacities, but Takeshi seemed to enjoy the possibilities, displaying a range of forms from a dire wolf bigger than a car to a tiny teacup pug that distracted a mark into giving up his banking secrets in a repulsive spate of baby talk while he cuddled the miniature dog. When the other guards tried to mock him for it after, he merely sniffed in disdain and shifted to his man-height wolf form, yawning widely to expose every one of his sharp teeth. 

Arthur had wondered if all the shifters would show forging capabilities, but aside from Takeshi, only Asami seemed to be able to shift in dreams, and she only brought her kamaitachi forms. Not that a whirlwind of knives wasn’t incredibly useful against crowds of rampaging projections, but even shifting into a quieter, breeze-like form seemed to instantly provoke the mildest of projections into a bloodthirsty rage.

“So, not that useful,” she said ruefully after they’d all awoken from being torn to pieces by thousands of projections in downtown Tokyo.

Arthur rubbed his face gently, relieved that all his features were still intact. “Useful mainly as a last stand, right now. Or for drawing projections away quickly from the rest of your team.” He sighed and stretched gingerly, feeling echoes of pain in his joints and abdomen. “You’ll need to talk to Eames about it. He shifts forms in dreams all the time without provoking that kind of reaction.”

Yuuki grinned at her. “Comes of being a nightmare,” he teased, ducking the swipe she aimed at him.

Isamu detested being in a dream and refused to go under after the first few times. “You will need someone above to watch over you,” he stated.

Arthur nodded to him. “A rare pleasure to have someone absolutely trustworthy up top.” Isamu nodded back gravely, but Arthur caught the pleased flash before Isamu tucked it away.

* * *

At Saito's insistence, Arthur lived in his multi-floor residence atop the office tower that held the company's headquarters. Though he usually slept with Saito, in dragon form, he had his own generous suite - an office which overlooked downtown Tokyo, an extravagant and throughly sybaritic bathroom, a serene bedroom, a sitting room furnished mostly with cushions and with a sweeping view of Tokyo Bay.

At the bodyguards’ insistence, Arthur joined them in their bi-weekly races up the stairwells of the immense Tokyo skyscraper. His sitting room became the favorite gathering point for the heap of freshly-showered and spent obake yōkai that inevitably sucked him into the middle despite his efforts. Arthur had never cuddled so much in his entire _life_ and, every now and again, didn't remember how to handle it gracefully.

He'd been thinking and worrying about Eames again that day, and had reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into the pile of shifters, trying to breath and let go of the thread of tension. When Haru’s hand settled on his hip, Arthur found himself abruptly struggling his way past the warm bodies and out of the room.

They gave him twenty minutes alone in his bedroom, curled on his side facing Tokyo Bay, feeling irritable and slightly ashamed.

Takeshi padded in quietly, a grey wolf big enough to look Arthur face to face when standing, and settled on the bed carefully, curled with his back to Arthur's back. He heaved a massive canine sigh. Arthur, who had tensed when the wolf came in, relaxed as the silence stretched comfortably on. Eventually Takeshi began breathing deeply, and Arthur realized he was asleep, but it wasn't until he began snoring that Arthur found the last of his irritation had faded. He rolled his eyes and elbowed the wolf, who snorted awake and lifted his head to glare at Arthur.

“You were snoring,” Arthur informed him with a faint smile.

Takeshi gave him a deeply dubious expression. “I do not _snore_,” he said with great offense.

“You're also shedding all over my bed.”

Takeshi growled. “Listen, pup…”

Arthur turned over, braced himself, put his feet against the wolf and shoved him off the bed.

Takeshi yelped as he tumbled to the floor and Daisuke opened the door and peered in, ducking his great green head under the lintel. He pulled back and Arthur heard him tell the others that no one was bleeding. And then a shame-faced otter was slinking into his bedroom, low to the floor, and Arthur had to laugh when the man-sized creature reached the edge of the bed and lifted his head enough to peer anxiously at him over it, all round dark eyes and tiny cupped ears folded back against his skull.

Arthur was struck again by Haru’s similarity to Eames, who would use the fuck out of that tactic if it were available to him. There was a tiny stab of hurt at how much he missed him but he sat up and reached out easily to Haru and scratched behind his ears, watching them shift forward in pleasure as his eyes closed.

He chose to ignore the mostly-whispered conversation happening outside his bedroom door as Haru made purring noises at him and settled his head in Arthur's lap.

“He kicked me out of bed! For shedding!”

“Doubt it was for shedding. Were you snoring again?”

“I do not snore!”

“You probably used a nickname.”

“And you know not to do that.”

“Why _is_ Arthur such a pain in the ass about nicknames?”

“Seriously, Yuuki? How are you over three hundred years old and still such a moron?”

“Listen, sickle-weasel…”

A solid thump and a whine.

“I want _my_ ears scratched.”

“Hmmph. Try to avoid shedding.”

“It’s not a successful sulk if it’s accompanied by a fond smile.”

“He was strong and fast enough to shove me off the bed. A wolf can take pride in that.”

“Did you call him pup or cub or something?”

“He did. Look at that guilty face.”

“You know only Eames can call him pet names.”

“And Saito!”

“Gods, Yuuki.”

“No one can deny Saito.”

“Yukiko can.”

“Yes, and then he put me in charge of you idiots, so it was well worth it, obviously.”

“Can we call him diminutives when Eames is back?”

Another series of thumps and a yip.

Arthur sighed and looked down at the massive otter head in his lap. Haru's eyes were open and dancing with sympathy and mischief. Arthur knew this was an entirely deniable way for his adoptive clan to communicate their thoughts; if he interrupted, they would only pretend innocence and express regret that he had been disturbed by their volume.

“Who had to trade what for a four-tailed kitsune to agree to play the oblivious clown in this discussion?” he asked softly. Haru snickered as the discussion lurched on.

“Arthur is a very dangerous human. Do not disrespect him so.”

“I think Yuuki’s eyes just rolled out of his head.”

“Leave it to a stolid, stuffy badger…”

“Isamu is a very dangerous mujina. Do not disrespect him so. Ouch!”

“Your sense of humor emerges at the strangest times, Daisuke.”

“At least I have one!”

“My point is that you should not be thinking of Arthur as your pet human.”

“Or as a youngster.”

“No matter how much you want to cuddle him.”

“As if you do not.”

“We all do. But he is not used to it, or us, yet.”

“It took years before he accepted that Eames meant his pet names and was not just teasing.”

“He’s dangerous, competent, and damn near irresistible. How can he not know this?”

Arthur opened his mouth and Haru reached up to cover it with a paw, shaking his head and cocking an ear to listen.

“How is he supposed to know it when you want to call him little this and little that all the time?”

“Well, and also human cultures suck about family and relationships.”

“Mmm.”

“True.”

“You are not wrong.”

“He has come quite far in the last few months. But he has not fully accepted that we truly have claimed him, that he is our family now.”

“He is deeply scarred. It will take time to heal.”

“This would have been easier if Saito had brought him here before Eames had to go back to the sea.”

“Saito said Eames was not sure Arthur would want to know.”

“How could Eames not be sure about _Arthur_?”

“Remember Eames is a merman. They don't even _have_ families. They just hide their eggs and swim off. Eames is one of the few that managed to avoid getting eaten when he emerged.”

“Gods, Yuuki!”

“I’m just saying that everything he learned about relationships he picked up from Saito or humans.”

There was a long pause.

“Hmm.”

“Good point.”

“Well…”

Arthur sighed again and pushed Haru’s head off his lap before getting up to go lean in the doorway. Six attempts at innocent expressions blinked at him and he raised an eyebrow.

Yuuki flashed a toothy grin at him. “We’ve not even gotten to the part where you needed to masturbate more.”

Arthur reached for a knife. “Kitsune only die if you cut off _all_ their tails, right?”

“They are not necessarily wrong about the masturbation,” Saito said that night as he curled around Arthur, giving him a whiskery nuzzle as Arthur lay dozing.

Arthur's eyes opened. “This is really not a topic for discussion.”

A soft chuckle. “You know better than that.”

“Saito…”

“You have not touched yourself since Eames’ change.”

Arthur blushed from the tips of his ears to his collarbones, cursing his skin, but kept his face straight. “Actually, I have.”

“Mmm. I hardly count a few hurried tugs in the shower as touching yourself.”

“Saito!”

“Arthur. Eames is not dead, he is coming back to you, and he would laugh himself sick at the thought of your self-imposed abstinence.”

A tiny smile stole over his mouth as he pictured Eames’ probable response and he found himself relaxing against Saito’s warm scales. “Must you demolish every one of my barriers?”

“Only the foolish ones. Now close your eyes again. I want you to remember the sounds Eames made as you entered him, when he was restrained against me.”

Arthur's cock twitched as he gasped at the memory. “Christ, Saito! A little warning maybe?”

“Do you remember the silky heat, the way he opened for you, letting you push in, letting you possess him?”

Arthur groaned, his hand wrapping around his stiffening cock as his eyes closed. He felt Saito lean closer, felt the gentle rush of the dragon's breath over his skin as he continued to whisper.

“I remember how he trembled against me, how he panted with each thrust until he was chanting your name with each exhale. I remember the slick wet sounds as you moved inside him, taking him apart between us.”

He moaned as he hardened all the way, almost too fast, starting a quick repetitive flick of his wrist to try to ease the sensation wholly into pleasure.

Saito’s whiskery tendrils moved restlessly against his shoulder. “Do you remember the taste of the skin along his spine, the quiver of the muscles under your mouth, how he cried out when you set your teeth in his flesh?”

It had been months, aside from a handful of half-guilty faps in the shower. Arthur was going to spill fast, and it was going to hit like thunder, he was already trembling on the edge, just a few more strokes…

“He gave the most beautiful ragged sound as you tipped him over the edge, as he helplessly clenched around you, sounding as if he'd been screaming your name for hours.”

Arthur came with a shout, arching up into his own hand as he shuddered, working himself to make it last and then collapsing to lay limp against Saito, gasping and feeling his pulse pound in his ears.

Saito purred, cradling him, delicately wiping his chest and stomach clean with soft fabric. “Go to sleep, Arthur,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself indeed.

“This is a strange relationship, Saito,” Arthur mumbled, letting his eyes close.

“The one involving a dragon, you mean?”

“…fair point.”

Saito huffed a laugh. “Sleep, my knife. Tomorrow we hunt.”

In the morning, Asami woke them, grinning a slightly sharper-edged grin than was technically human-standard. “Lovely picture you make this fine morning.”

Arthur sighed as she held out a yukata robe for him while sweeping her gaze down and up his naked body. “Remind me of the benefits of a clan again?”

She winked. “Always having someone to hand you a robe when you're feeling vulnerable?”

Saito yawned hugely, stretched, and shifted back to human form. He pulled Arthur to him for a quick and casual embrace, then pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. “Go shower, my knife. Asami, update him.”

In the bathroom, Arthur firmly pointed to a corner distant from the shower.

She snorted. “Don't want me to wash your back?”

He turned on the water and sat to wash himself. “I don't want to bleed all over my good suits. Are you even capable of touching me without leaving a cut?”

“Arthur, I would gladly touch you in any way you would allow.” She looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “Except Eames has a nasty and creative jealous streak and I am not completely invulnerable.”

“Huh. Way to make things even more uncomfortable. Thanks.” In spite of his words, he found he wasn't truly self-conscious or embarrassed to have her there as he washed himself. “What information do you have?”

She grinned, all inhuman sharp teeth this time. “Your research has given us the probable location of the leak. We'll go there this morning and see what we can scare up.”

“Scare up, from you, sounds particularly terrifying.”

“Why, Arthur, we're just going to ask some questions.”

“Mm-hmm.” He glanced over his shoulder at her and found she'd drifted much closer. “You know, humans don't find me this…attractive.”

She reached out to trace along his wet shoulder with a lingering touch. “Humans would, and should, be wary of you. But to us…” She leaned in to place a light kiss on the top of his wet shoulder, more a brush of her mouth along his skin. “You're damn near irresistible.”

“Could be problematic when Eames returns, with all his excesses of creative jealousy,” Arthur said dryly. “Not I've ever seen that, mind you.”

“I would suspect it would mainly come into play if you were interested in someone else. But you're not interested in any of us sexually.”

“I'm only human, Asami. I'm not interested in a relationship with you that way, but my body has no problem reacting to any of you in a physical fashion.”

She crouched in front of him, between his thighs where he sat on the low wooden stool, and gave him a very serious look as she rested her hands on his knees. “You realize that makes it all the worse for me. The others can change form and snuggle with you, but my other embodiment is not exactly cuddly. At least you're gay.” She leaned forward and licked along his collarbone.

Arthur caught her face gently, leaning back a little to look at her. “Asami. I'm in love with Eames, but otherwise, I'm bisexual.”

She glanced down at his hips with a small quirk of a smile. “Moving into Eames-will-murder-me territory then.”

“No, because I'm going to stop you right here,” he said mildly.

Asami sighed. “Damn your principles. And damn Eames for finding you first. All right, I'll behave, Arthur, or as much as I ever do, anyway.”

“You are _not_ pining for me. And I sincerely hope this isn't some sort of test to be sure I was worthy of Eames or something equally idiotic.”

Asami smirked and stood, dropping a light kiss on his wet hair. “Nothing quite that idiotic, no. But Arthur, please believe that if you were not so involved with Eames, you would be spending much of each day as the sexual focal point of multiple obake.”

“I'm flattered, dubious, and more than a bit alarmed.” He wrinkled his nose as she laughed. “Weren't you supposed to update me?”

“She was, indeed,” Saito said dryly from the doorway. “And instead I find her attempting to test my knife’s finesse at difficult family relationships.”

“Under orders, mind you,” she replied cheerfully.

“Arthur, my apologies. I had no idea my guards would decide to do this.”

Arthur shrugged. “I'm guessing that many of them have been with you for multiple human lifespans. No matter how much they may like me, and trust your judgement, they've only known me for a few months. I'd be surprised if they weren't testing me occasionally.”

Asami ruffled Arthur's hair and pulled back in time to avoid his swipe at her. “Stop being more exceptional than other humans.”

“I assure you that I'm not. I think the problem lies with your skewed standards.”

Saito raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Who, among those of your acquaintances, would be as accepting of us as you?”

“Ariadne,” Arthur replied promptly. “Only don't, because she and Yukiko and the papercut witch here would overthrow the delicate balance and life would never be the same.”

Saito tossed his head back and laughed delightedly. “Oh gods and ancestors, Arthur, you make a distinct point! But we shall table that possibility for the moment and attend to our current problem - that of tracking down our leak in the international finance group.”

He swept back out into the bedroom, gesturing Asami to follow.

She delayed long enough to whisper a question in Arthur's ear. “Is _she_ in a relationship?”

* * *

Arthur had almost resigned himself to a near-daily masturbation habit, overseen by Saito. Almost. As long as he didn't think too much on the utter bizarreness that had become his life. So he was understandably wary when Saito came into his office late one evening and smiled at him in a reassuring way.

He took his hands off the keyboard. “Am I allowed to tell you no in regards to whatever it is you want to ask?”

“Of course, Arthur.”

“Then, no.” He turned his attention back to the screen and began sorting a spreadsheet, looking for a pattern. “Thank you.”

“Arthur.”

He didn't pause in his typing. “So I'm not actually allowed to refuse?”

“I would prefer that you hear me out first.”

“That particular smile of yours means sex is involved.”

“Only indirectly.”

Arthur looked up from the laptop and ran both hands through his hair, scowling at Saito. “My god, what fresh perversion do you want me involved in now?”

Saito’s eyes crinkled as he came over to pull Arthur to his feet and curled his hand around the back of Arthur's neck familiarly, massaging gently. “I will be dominating the CEO of a company I wish to acquire. You are precisely the physical type he normally desires, and I would like you to please yourself for us, wearing a half-mask to disguise your face, of course, while I take him apart very thoroughly.”

In spite of himself, Arthur felt more than a twinge of interest even as he stared at Saito, and then immediately wondered at himself. “Tell me something, Saito. What version of Arthur are you planning to turn over to Eames when he's back? Because I think I'm beginning to lose sight of myself a little.”

Saito curled both hands around Arthur's face, dropping his head a little to look him directly in the eye. “Arthur, no. Never think that. You are simply more yourself than you have ever been before. We have only exposed and stripped away some of the insecurities, some of the worries, some of the fears. What you are now is more confident, more skilled, more honed, if you will, my knife.”

“More immodest…”

“At this point in your relationship, you and Eames have no trouble asking each other for what you desire. I have seen this for myself. Why should that change simply because he is elsewhere? And why should I hesitate to return to him an Arthur that is supremely self-confident in himself?”

Arthur frowned, not feeling all that self-confident.

“That this is only occurring now with sexual matters indicates that, in this one matter, you are still burdening yourself with the inherited expectations of others. This is not surprising given your sexual preferences and their interaction with your family background and your time in the military. However, it is a no longer necessary habit of mind, and one re-trains those by laying down new patterns.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Saito. “In other words, shut up and join in because this is for my own good?”

Saito smiled, leaning closer, thumbs caressing the corners of Arthur's mouth. “Arthur. Shut up and join in because you are one of the most arousing sights I can imagine,” he purred. “And though you would be _endless_ trouble underneath me, the possibility of having someone more receptive while still watching you is even more stirring than I expected.”

“You watch me all the time!” he protested, his hands coming up to rest on Saito's chest, pushing him back a little but not pushing him away.

“As a dragon.”

The wall was suddenly there against Arthur's back and he realized he'd let Saito guide him backwards across half the room. Saito's smile curled up at one corner as he enjoyed Arthur's startlement.

Arthur frowned, his back straightening, and this time he did push Saito away.

“There,” Saito sighed. “That is where we run into the unfortunate fact that you are not naturally submissive. It is truly amazing that you and Eames play with each other so.”

“It's just…trust,” Arthur said.

“No, it is an _expression_ of trust. You loved Eames for many years before you expressed it. But no matter. Arthur.” Saito put on a mock-stern face. “I require you to participate.”

Arthur snorted, stepping past Saito to log out of the laptop. “Hold your breath while you're at it.”

Saito laughed, and Arthur heard a rustle of fabric. When he turned, Saito was unwrapping a bundle carefully. What emerged was a molded black leather half mask depicting an smoothly abstracted and beautiful demonic face. The eye holes were covered with a fine black mesh that would allow him to see quite well, but would hide his eyes. The mask would cover his face from hairline to nose, leaving his mouth exposed. The thing was beautiful, a work of art, and Arthur itched to have it in his hands.

“Ahh,” Saito said. “A visible flicker of temptation.” He caressed the slopes and rises of the finely shaped surface as if it were a face he cherished, and Arthur felt his cock twitch in interest. “You, naked but for this, kneeling or stretched out on silk and bringing yourself to climax as you recall intimacies with your beloved…while I subjugate a man who, bound and gagged, can only watch you, desire you in vain, see your unfettered pleasure and have his doled out at my hand.”

“_Jesus_, Saito.” Arthur resisted the urge to press his palm down over his groin.

Saito looked up with a faint smile. “Hmm, if it is such a distasteful concept, then I certainly withdraw the invitation…”

Arthur dropped onto the low sofa in his office with a laugh and threw an arm across his face. “You are such a manipulative bastard,” he announced to the inside of his elbow.

“Tell me you will participate, my knife. I can promise you diversion and satisfaction.”

Arthur dropped his arm and let his gaze skate over the mask Saito was holding out to him. “You know I will,” he said as he reached for it.

At one end of the room there was a full-length mirror set by a broad flat silk cushion, at the other end, a similar cushion. Both cushions were easily large enough for two people to lay full length on them. Next to the mirror was a small wooden chest containing lubricant and a few elegant toys. At the far end of the room was a much larger chest with several drawers. There were supports and hooks tucked up against the ceiling.

Arthur, wearing a silk robe with embroidered dragons, was pondering his reflection as he tied the silk ribbons that secured the mask behind his head. The mask itself was lined with something extremely soft and fitted so perfectly to his features that he suspected Saito of having it custom-made. The black bottomless appearance of the eyeholes, darker than the smooth black sheen of the leather around them, gave him a truly otherworldly look.

Saito and his prey, both fully dressed, Saito in very formal traditional attire and the man with him in a business suit, entered the far side of the room as Arthur was running his fingertips over the surface of the mask. Arthur turned his head slowly to watch them, a tiny smile curling the corner of his mouth as the man caught sight of Arthur, caught his breath, and froze in place. Arthur studied him, his head tilting slightly this way and that, then turned his face enough to be obviously looking at Saito instead and made a deep bow, letting his lips curve in an anticipatory smile. Saito's eyes crinkled at the corners in response and then he turned his attention to the man in his grasp.

“Open your mouth, jūjun.”

Arthur faced the mirror again, watching out of the corner of his eye as Saito fitted the man with a beautifully crafted leather gag, one with a very short but thick dildo on the inside to fill the man's mouth.

Jūjun would translate to submissive, one who is obedient, pliant, he considered as he watched the man take it in without argument, bowing his head forward to allow Saito to buckle it in back.

Arthur let his robe fall open and slither off his shoulders in the way of very fine silk, catching it in his hands and hanging it to the side of the mirror. He contemplated his reflection, aware of the man’s stare as if it were a physical touch on his bare skin.

Training intensively over the past months with Saito and his guards had recast his body, refined it. He was lithe and lean, sculpted with hard muscle everywhere, and every movement was graceful but deliberate, precise and full of predatory intent. He moved like a weapon, and he looked like a weapon. Saito's knife.

His mouth curled at the thought and he drifted his fingers over the old scars visible on his chest and abdomen.

He heard a muffled whimper from behind the gag and Saito laughed very softly. “Yes, he _is_ magnificent, isn't he? He rather resembles those pretty boys you like to hire as assistants, but this one is _dangerous_, jūjun. This one could take you to pieces as easily as I will.”

A low whine answered Saito and Arthur turned to face them, fingers tracing slowly down the thin line of hair below his navel. Saito was holding the man's arms out straight from his body and tapped them to indicate they should stay there, accepting a nod as answer.

“Now for your clothing. I hope that you remembered not to wear anything you valued highly,” Saito said conversationally as he unsheathed a breathtaking tanto, the wavy temperline of the knife striking against the lustre of the metal blade. He slid it into the man's sleeves, edge up, and cut along the top of his arms and shoulders to his neck, the tanto so sharp that the ruined shirt and undershirt and jacket simply fell away from the edge.

Saito stepped behind his prey and Arthur could tell he had drawn the flat spine of the knife down the man's spine by the way he arched forward in surprise.

“No, no, jūjun, stay still. A kiss from this blade should be a reward, not a failure of your comportment.”

The man whimpered again behind his gag, but his hungry eyes never left Arthur, even when Saito cut through the back of his belt and down each trouser leg.

Arthur tilted his head as he watched, trailing his fingers up his stomach to his chest. Eames would adore his stomach, he thought with a soft smile. Arthur had never been out of shape as such, but this was a peak he knew Eames would appreciate fully. He let his head tip back a little as he toyed with his nipples, knowing Eames’ fondness for teasing them, using their sensitivity to drive Arthur to distraction. His cock began to fill and he heard the jūjun moan. He scratched across his belly, leaving pale streaks that flushed red, and then turned his back to the pair, teasing his fingernails over the muscles of his backside, pinching tiny marks along the crease and down to the backs of his thighs, staring at himself in the mirror and pleasing himself with imagining Eames’ probable response to his taut and carven ass.

He heard Saito murmur approvingly and turned, his hand coming around to cup his cock and balls, thumb stroking along the top of his half-hard erection, to see that Saito had paused, watching him while he gripped the jūjun by the back of his neck. The smile he gave Saito was mostly playful, not entirely smug, and Saito tucked the corner of his mouth up in response.

He gave his prey a little shake. “He is a considerable distraction, is he not?” The man moaned again, his cock fully erect and the tip already wet. “Well, let us begin to bind you.”

Arthur fondled himself lightly as he watched Saito bring out multiple coils of rope. Then he smiled and turned to the small wooden chest, taking out lubricant and a cock ring. If Saito was going to commit to a full kinbaku session, then Arthur needed to last. Saito would take the utmost erotic advantage of the deliberate process of tying up his prey before moving to a sexual submission, and Arthur was rather looking forward to watching it. He had no doubt Saito had had extensive practice in the art.

He set the ring and lube down at the edge of the flat silken cushion and then took himself to the center and sank to his knees, spreading them wide and letting his hands wander over his body as he watched, scratching marks into his skin along the same patterns, the same path, Saito was taking as he wrapped and knotted and bound the jūjun in a design from throat to ankle.

The man was achingly hard as Saito suspended him, legs folded at the knees, arms folded behind his back, angling his body so that he appeared to be kneeling in midair and leaning toward Arthur. He was perfectly placed for both his mouth and his backside to be accessible for use.

By the time Saito had finished his leisurely bindings, Arthur needed to work the cock ring on, letting out a breathy moan as he finally settled it at the base of his shaft. Saito paused with his hand under the chin of his prey, turning his head to look directly at Arthur, his dark eyes fully dilated, his erection a visible bulge even through the stiff hakama trousers and kimono.

Arthur gathered up the pre-ejaculate leaking from his cock and slowly licked it off his hand, keeping his mask turned to Saito as he sucked each finger into his mouth. Saito inhaled deeply, his tongue touching his upper lip, and then he smiled in the most predatory fashion Arthur had yet seen.

“Do you see what he is doing, jūjun, how he teases? He has already marked his own body to echo the ropes around yours, though he is not bound.”

Arthur bared his teeth and stretched his arms overhead, wriggling his torso sensuously as his muscles tightened and relaxed. Then rose up on his knees, spreading them wider and arching his back, stroking his cock and gathering up more of the fluid leaking from the tip before reaching behind himself and spreading it over his hole, sighing at the ripples of pleasure that spread through his taut body. He worked his hips in a slow provocation.

“And now he taunts me, knowing I will take it out on you, jūjun. Is he not even crueler than I?” The man moaned piteously, his own cock dripping a wet spot onto the cushion beneath him.

Arthur settled back to a kneeling position, tilting his head at Saito and lazily sliding his fingers in a loose circle along his cock.

Saito turned away to unbuckle the gag from his prey’s head, easing the thick dildo out. “Shh, hush. You know words are forbidden. Are you ready to take me this way?” At the man's frantic nod, Saito stepped away and undressed, laying the clothing over a rack nearby.

His human form was remarkably beautiful, Arthur thought. Easily two meters tall, broad-shouldered and more muscular than Arthur but, on that frame, it appeared sleek. Naked, he moved with the same easy unselfconscious grace, almost serpentine, that he displayed as a dragon. He had a generous cock, not excessively long, but quite thick. Arthur could see why the dildo gag had been the size it was.

Saito returned to the suspended man, taking hold of the ropes and rotating him so that Arthur had a full view of Saito pushing slowly into the man’s mouth as the man labored to open his throat. Saito's breath hissed between his bared teeth as he watched himself slip deeper with each invasion. “You will open for me,” he said, low and growling as he tugged on the rope-work, swinging the man slightly onto and off of his cock.

Arthur dipped his fingers into the lubricant and worked his shaft faster at the sight, panting as he tensed, until he finally had to let go of himself to avoid coming. He groaned and beat his fists against his thighs, dropping his head and trembling with how much he wanted to continue.

“Such beautiful tension,” Saito whispered and Arthur lifted his head to see him moving away from the suspended man, the jūjun’s head hanging as he panted, but soon enough the man's eyes came back up to focus on Arthur and he licked his swollen lips, letting them stay parted in invitation as he stared. Arthur felt his own mouth twist in a ruthless smile and he let himself settle onto his back, bracing his feet wide and flat on the cushion and lifting his hips into the air. He reached for the lubricant again and turned his head to stare back at the jūjun as he slid his arm underneath and pressed a slippery finger into himself and then another. He felt his cock leak and trickle down the shaft to trail along the line of his stomach and he breathed into a rhythm with the thrusting motion of his two fingers.

Saito growled and knelt behind his prey, and Arthur could tell from the shiver and gasp exactly when Saito sank his own slick fingers into the man’s hole. It wasn't long before Saito was lining himself up and pushing in and Arthur could see both of their faces, the jūjun wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the penetration, and Saito watching Arthur's fingers with fierce concentration, a feral smile playing about his lips as he pushed steadily into his suspended prey. The man winced once and Saito slapped his ass. “Open for me!” he snarled, even as he kept his eyes on Arthur.

Arthur bared his teeth in his own savage grin and sank another finger in himself, his hips jerking at the stretch. Saito responded by shoving into the man to the hilt and the jūjun cried out, writhing in the ropes as much as he could, his expression lost in passive rapture as he was fucked helplessly, wholly dependent on Saito for his pleasure.

Saito’s breathing grew harsh and his movements rougher in time with Arthur’s, and the bound man was crying out with each thrust, unable or unwilling to look away from Arthur. Arthur wrapped his other hand around his cock and saw Saito reach below his jūjun and he felt a surge of shared power as he realized that Saito was coordinating all three of them from Arthur’s cues, and that was enough to drive him over the edge, his orgasm surging over him as he came in spurts over his chest and throat and the mask, hearing a wail and a roar mingled as Saito brought both himself and his prey off as well.

Arthur collapsed to the cushion and rolled to his side to watch as Saito curled forward over the bound man, eyes closed, face serene and self-possessed even through the sweat and sex flush. The jūjun had finally dropped his gaze, limp and hanging loose in the ropes as he heaved for breath. He whimpered quietly when Saito pulled out of him and Arthur shivered as he remembered the feel of being empty after being so very full, and then almost laughed out loud as Saito quite prosaically removed a condom Arthur hadn't realized he'd put on. Saito met his gaze with amusement as he tied it off and tossed it aside.

The jūjun was the very definition of pliant as Saito lowered him gently and then cradled him in his lap as he cut away the ropes. Arthur thought wistfully of times when he'd been that docile in Eames’ arms, and the times when he'd had an equally compliant Eames in his embrace.

He slowly stretched as he watched Saito whisper to the man, soothing him, but both sets of eyes returned to him when he came back to a kneeling position. He smiled lazily and rolled the cock ring off himself, then rubbed his fingers through the streaks of come on his chest and throat, tilting his head at the jūjun as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. The poor man whimpered and clung to Saito, who gave Arthur a look of amused approval and nodded.

Arthur rose to his feet and stretched shamelessly before sauntering out of the room to shower and soak. The mask he carefully cleaned and oiled and left on Saito's desk in his suite, feeling sure he'd be offered it again sometime in the future.

When Saito knocked later, Arthur was sprawled and dozing in his own bed, on his back above the covers, naked as had become utterly usual. Saito came in and sat on the edge of the bed, letting a hand rest comfortably on Arthur's thigh and Arthur smiled at him.

“Did you acquire your company?” he asked with a yawn.

Saito laughed. “I believe he would have given it to you had you asked. You were more than magnificent, Arthur; you were breath-taking.”

“I enjoyed it,” he admitted easily. “Your rope work was stunning to watch.”

“We worked together beautifully. Now come to bed properly, my knife, we are both in need of a cuddle.”

Arthur wrinkled his nose as he got up. “Every time you say that word I hear it in quotes.”

Saito smiled. “Would you prefer snuggle?” He laughed hard at the look of muted horror Arthur gave him.

* * *

Saito came into the room and settled on a chair to watch Isamu and Daisuke massage Arthur into a puddle on the table. “Your Eames will thank me for years to come,” he mused aloud, eyeing the lean and hard musculature. “And you will need that strength and speed and flexibility, my knife.”

“For a specific task?” Arthur asked lazily.

“For when you see Eames tonight,” Saito replied with a faint smile. “It has been almost eleven months and he has emerged from the depths and signaled me.”

Arthur was up on his hands and staring at Saito. “Signaled you how?” he asked carefully.

“There is a buoy off the coast with a satellite link. I had a waterproof camera and touchpad installed and Eames knows to come there. Would you care to see the footage?”

Arthur barely spared him a glance, sitting up and reaching for the tablet instead. He started the video and found it displayed two screens: one was clearly a camera pointing out into blue that shaded down into darkness, the other was simply black. For a few seconds there was nothing on either screen, then a distant shadow moved and disappeared again on the camera screen. A few seconds after that a closer shape, faintly striped, passed across the view. After another few seconds, a long shape, clearly striped in black and blue-green, circled past.

Then a clawed hand rose into view, stroking over the camera lens, followed by Eames’ head, his huge dark eyes intent as he looked into the camera, then down. Barely legible writing appeared on the black screen.

_RTHR?_ Arthur guessed that it would be difficult to write with those claws.

_He is here. He is very well_, was the typed reply.

Eames spun himself backwards into a rapid tight spiral, then halted in front of the camera again, jaw full of sharp teeth dropping open in what was probably a smile.

_REDY_

_Early as usual, little fish. We are ready._

He did another spiral, almost dancing in the water.

_WHER? RTHR CUM_

Arthur frowned at that. He couldn't possibly…The reply was slow as well, and Eames scraped at the camera lens impatiently.

_As a locator scent?_

Eames nodded several times. _YES YS YE YES Y YS_, he wrote.

_I am sure he will be delighted._

Eames threw his head back in a laugh that was all teeth and spiraled again, fins flashing, before grinning at the camera and shaking his head no.

_ARTHUR_, he wrote slowly and carefully, then looked up at the camera, splayed a clawed hand over his chest and touched his mouth. Then he was arrowing away off screen and the video ended.

Arthur repeated it several times, alternating between a soft smile, a scowl, another soft smile. When he looked up again, Saito was regarding him with fond amusement.

“He is entirely serious about your ejaculate,” he said before Arthur could do more than open his mouth. “It is, after all, a scent and taste he knows very well.”

Arthur tried to hold his face still and then lost his composure, laughing as he tossed the tablet back to Saito. “Do you seriously intend me to jerk off into the ocean to call my lost love home to me? Like a shark following blood in the water?”

Isamu snorted and patted Arthur on the shoulder, handing him a yukata. “Yuuki has a talent for sumi-e. Would make a beautiful ink painting. You, on a cliff above the sea…”

Arthur gave him a very dry look. “The elegant arc of semen falling to the waves below?”

Isamu’s mouth twitched and he nodded past Arthur's shoulder. Arthur turned to find Daisuke curled up on himself, having apparently slid down the wall, shaking with silent laughter, tears rolling down his face. He snorted. “We've broken your bear, Saito.”

Saito was regarding all three of them with dancing eyes, his thumb pressed to his lips, stilling them.

Though the house Saito had prepared actually _was_ on a cliff overlooking the ocean, once there he took Arthur down a magnificently carved stone and metal stairway into a massive cavern deep within the cliff, half-filled with cold clear seawater and lit both from dimmer overhead lights and brighter underwater lights, sending dancing patterns across the vast rocky roof. There was an elegant wooden floating dock leading out to a floating platform. Arthur could see the tide marks on the cavern walls, and a large dark area along the bottom of the far wall.

“This is a sea cave,” he said. “And that channel leads to the ocean?”

Saito nodded. “A very deep and hidden channel, inaccessible to divers. Eames will come and go through it, but first we must mark its location for him.”

Arthur held the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I assume that the tide is going out at the moment. I further assume that you’ll be staying to watch.”

Saito slipped a hand around the back of his neck and tugged him closer, dropping a gentle kiss on Arthur's forehead. “I will not. Eames is somewhere close, and he will not take long in finding you. You should be in the water when he arrives, but Arthur, I must warn you.” He held Arthur’s face with both hands. “He has existed for nearly a year entirely as a predator and his form still is, no matter how much he longs for you and his human life. His physical reactions and instinctive processes will be those of a predator, and you must be a little careful of what you may trigger.”

Arthur frowned lightly but nodded. Saito indicated the floating platform. “You will find a great variety of gear and supplies there, as well as the means to communicate with us as we wait above.” He smiled reassuringly. “Enjoy your reunion, my knife.”

Arthur stripped and hung his clothes neatly at the area at base of the stairs, walking out the long dock to where the platform floated in the center of the huge cave. He stood at the edge, looking into the water and guessing at the depth.

Since the cavern was enclosed, there would be no waves, and the motion of the tide rising and falling through the channel would be gentle, so a floating structure made sense.

He turned his attention to the big teak containers on the platform, finding an abundance of towels, waterproof cushions, and an array of pool floats. There were several waterproof smartphones and tablets, a small collection of watches that clearly doubled as dive computers, an extensive first aid kit, and a variety of gear, from snorkels, fins, and masks to professional-grade SCUBA gear.

There was also a hookah diving rig - a full-face mask with a very long breathing tube, attached to a compressor hanging from the roof of the cavern in a mounting clearly designed to silence it and dampen vibrations. Arthur regarded it thoughtfully as he strapped on one of the dive watches. He might as well do a little exploration while he waited for Eames.

He flipped the switch for the compressor, pleased at how quiet it was, strapped the mask on, pulled on some fins, and slipped into the cold water. He hovered below the floating platform, able to see almost every part of the cavern through the clear water, and glanced at the dive watch. He was already some ten meters below the surface and he estimated the bottom to be at least twice that below him. It was calm and peaceful in the cavern, softly lit, only the quiet hiss of air entering the mask and the bubbling sounds of his slow exhales.

He glanced over at the dark entrance to the channel and thought of Eames being just the other side of it. He remembered the cool feel of that long body that had briefly touched him almost a year ago, the smooth muscles moving under the supple skin as Eames had circled him. And abruptly he wanted Eames’ arms around him again, wanted to feel Eames against his skin, wanted the reassurance and sense of refuge he always felt in Eames’ embrace.

Arthur stared down at his cock and snorted. All he had to do was jerk off, apparently. Well, it wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd done all year.

In the interests of efficiency, he swam over near the dark channel entrance before wrapping a hand around himself. He set his teeth in his bottom lip and stroked himself off quickly, his panting loud in his mask. He refused to watch the result float away and disperse into the channel with the tidal pull, turning instead to swim slowly back to the platform and pull himself out.

He hung the breathing mask, turned off the compressor, and pulled a waterproof tablet and a flat foam pool float out of a container before returning to the water. He lounged on the float as it drifted slowly towards the channel and did some quick research on sharks and blood in the water, focusing on how fast they had been proven to detect it, and what amount was likely to be needed for what distance. The results made him roll his eyes and slip into the water again, hanging off the edge of the float to masturbate again.

He jerked off a third time later, and then dozed off on the float, legs dangling over the sides and tablet on his chest.

He woke, shivering, to a gentle motion. He was cold and the float was moving toward the platform, being pulled by a clawed hand holding the edge near his shoulder.

“Eames!” He rolled off into the water, tossing the tablet onto the float, and reached for him. Eames’ head broke the surface as he wrapped around Arthur, careful with his claws even as he held him tightly, long body undulating to keep them at the surface. Eames stroked his palm down Arthur’s back and gently grasped the back of Arthur's head in his other hand, tipping it back to look at him. Arthur shivered again and Eames pulled him away, lifting Arthur onto the platform and indicating the containers before sliding back under the surface.

Arthur dried off quickly with some towels, then wrapped a thermal blanket around himself and sat cross-legged at the edge of the platform. The tablet emerged from the water in Eames’ hand, the word _COLD_ scribbled on it.

“I shouldn't have fallen asleep in the water,” Arthur said, caressing the hand. “I'm warmer now.”

The tablet was placed on the platform, and Eames lifted his head above the surface again and took Arthur's hand, tugging him sideways to lay along the edge of the platform, facing the water. He ducked back under and then his hand curled over the edge of the platform to rest on Arthur's hand. Arthur entwined their fingers, staring at the textured skin, the long claws, letting his fingertips trace aimless patterns for awhile, savoring the fact that Eames was _here_.

“I'm coming back into the water,” he said, starting to pull his hand away. Eames’ hand snapped closed over his, the claws gouging into the wood, and Arthur paused, then smiled and relaxed his hand. “Hey,” he said. Eames’s head rose above the surface just enough to expose his eyes, and Arthur saw the concern and anxiety, impatience and outright hunger.

“I'll put on a wetsuit for a while, Eames,” Arthur said with a smile. “You can't breathe with your head out, can you? Or respirate, or whatever you want to call it?”

Eames shook his head. Arthur tilted his head and then got up, shedding the blanket slowly as a deliberate provocation. Eames rose higher to stare at him, dropping his jaw in a predator’s smile, eyes tracing down and up Arthur's naked body.

“I've been training with Saito and his guards. Extensively. Endlessly. Excessively.” Eames shook his head slowly at the last word and lifted his gaze up to Arthur's face. “You like the results?” Arthur asked, turning in a teasing circle. Eames made a growling noise and gestured him into the water, submerging with a flick of his tail and swimming off to circle the cavern.

Arthur turned on the compressor and draped the mask over the edge of the platform before pulling a wetsuit out of a container and slipping into the water with it. Eames was immediately there, stroking his hands along Arthur's bare sides and hips, coiling around him greedily.

Arthur let the wetsuit float as Eames wrapped around him, hooking Arthur's thighs wide over his two pelvic fins and around Eames’ body. Arthur carefully and lightly ran his fingertips over the gill slits along Eames’ sides, pausing when a tremor traveled the entire length of his body and his clawed hands tightened on Arthur's hips.

“Pain?” Arthur asked. Eames shook his head. “Ah. Sensitivity.” Eames nodded, holding Arthur close and nuzzling his face against Arthur's throat. Arthur breathed and held him for a moment, then pushed gently at his shoulders. “Go under. Let me get geared up.”

Eames reluctantly let him go, submerging but only moving off a meter or so and watching him avidly.

Arthur squirmed into the wetsuit, using the water to break the seal between the suit material and his skin as he eeled into it. Once he zipped it up, he was immediately warmer, probably mostly due to the effort of wriggling the damn thing on. He pulled on the full-face mask, taking deep breaths as he sank under the surface and glancing around for Eames.

He was watching Arthur, one clawed hand sliding up and down slowly over his pelvic area, and Arthur realized there was a slit there that had not been visible before. He moved his hand away and drifted closer to Arthur.

“You're going to stop _now_?” Arthur asked incredulously. “After a tease like that?”

Eames laughed silently and made a gesture that indicated Arthur's entire body.

“Hey, I already jerked off three times for you, and my equipment hasn't changed any. You've got some catching up to do.”

Eames grinned and tugged Arthur close to him, taking Arthur's hand and rubbing it against his pelvis. Arthur felt the soft edges of the slit give a little under his touch, and he stroked a little harder, letting his fingertips drag, rewarded when Eames arched backwards and Arthur felt a bulge forming under the surface. He delicately pressed his fingers against the slit, easing in, trying to stroke the inner edges and Eames shivered, tugging on Arthur's wrist to get him to apply more pressure.

Arthur pushed in a little further and felt a smooth rounded shape swelling under his touch. He stroked it and Eames shuddered, his long lower body curling as the organ swelled out of the pocket under his skin, pushing Arthur's hand ahead of it and curling around his wrist.

Arthur stared at the flexible appendage trying to wind around his arm. “Jesus Christ, Eames, is it prehensile?”

Eames gave him a shameless grin and a shrug.

“Which means it is, but you don't want to boast too much…holy fuck, how big does it _get_?”

Eames’ grin widened, if anything, and he stroked Arthur's shoulder soothingly.

“No, Eames, seriously, that's not going anywhere near my ass until…Eames. Is it producing its own lubrication?”

Eames took Arthur's hands and put them on the somewhat-tentacular looking organ, wrapping his own hands over Arthur's. It was rather like a cylindrical tongue, Arthur thought in mild surprise, as he felt a core of muscle surrounded by softer, somewhat spongy tissue. And then there was the matter of the slippery surface.

Eames squeezed their grips down and thrust through their hands, incidentally showing how compressible it was, and Arthur marveled at how it writhed in their combined hold. He had to admit it was becoming a more and more tempting thought.

Eames pulled him close, encouraging Arthur to straddle his pelvic area again, Eames’ organ twisting between them as Arthur kept both hands wrapped around it. Eames supported his backside with one hand and cupped the back of his head with the other, letting Arthur's forehead rest against his chest to watch between them.

Arthur tested different stroking motions, different pressures, different grips, his own cock stiffening in his wetsuit as Eames slowly writhed between his legs. He catalogued Eames’ reactions, evaluated each result, analyzed and organized his findings. And then he drove Eames over the edge, his back arching as Arthur triggered a flood of milky semen from the pulsing organ that was still trying to wrap around his hands. As it softened, Eames curled forward to gather Arthur against him and his cock shrank and drew back inside, the slightly swollen edges of the slit easing back together. Arthur brushed the edges gently, smiling as Eames shuddered, the edges drawing apart again a little. Eames caught his hands, bringing them up to lay flat on the textured skin of his chest.

“Too sensitive?” Arthur asked as he looked up to meet Eames’ eyes.

A shake of his head. He swam them back to the platform and reached for the tablet. _WANT N U. COLD?_

“I'm not cold right now.”

Eames took hold of the zipper on Arthur's wetsuit, holding Arthur’s gaze as he pulled it down.

Arthur grinned at him. “So no real refractory period, either.”

Eames grinned back and Arthur had to reach up, his fingers hovering before Eames’ extensive array of serrated teeth. Eames leaned his head back warily, giving Arthur a warning look.

“Eames.” Arthur was determined. “You have a mouthful of fucking _knives_. Let. Me. _Touch_.”

Eames shook his head slowly, not in denial, but in fond amusement, and stroked Arthur's throat and along his collarbone. He dropped his mouth open and relaxed his jaw, watching Arthur’s face as he explored Eames’ mouth. He didn't test the edges of the teeth, knowing they'd be razor-sharp, and neither of them would probably enjoy blood in the water right now. He did reach in to gently stroke inside, running his fingers over Eames’ tongue and the roof of his mouth. Eames shivered, hands holding Arthur's shoulders, and membranes slid over his eyes, giving him an almost blind look.

Arthur pulled his hand away and then took one of Eames’ hands, running his fingertips along the claws. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are, Eames? Dangerous and deadly and predatory and all I want you to do is fucking take me apart.” He looked up to meet Eames’ eyes. “It's been almost a year since you were inside me. Don't make me wait longer.”

Arthur felt Eames’ growl against his belly and then those claws were shredding his wetsuit off of him. He gasped at the cold water against his skin and the slick feel of that warm prehensile member sliding out of its slit against his groin. He moaned as it wrapped around his own cock and Eames was lifting Arthur's hips and settling him closer to his own body, guiding Arthur's legs around his waist, where a subtle groove existed between the pelvic girdle and his gill slits.

Eames gathered Arthur's wrists behind him with one hand and cupped his chin with the other, holding him still, watching Arthur's face through the mask as his slick cock began to insinuate its tapered end into Arthur's entrance.

It felt like being fingered open, it felt like being rimmed, it felt like nothing Arthur had ever experienced before and it was _Eames_ working his way into Arthur and with the first brush over his prostate he knew he was never going to last.

His eyes fluttered shut as Eames used his grip on Arthur's wrists to pull him closer, Arthur's cock pressed between them, and then Eames started an undulation with his lower half that rubbed them together and Arthur was crying out as he came, impaled on Eames’ writhing member, struggling in Eames’ grip and loving that he couldn't break free.

He was gasping as if he'd run miles when he opened his eyes to meet Eames’ grin. He was still held by chin and wrists and abruptly realized Eames was also still inside him, though he was mostly motionless for the moment. And then Eames’ grin widened even further and he seemed to inhale deeply, and Arthur felt the flow of water from the gills across the tops of his thighs where he was wrapped around Eames’ waist. He did it again and then again and his head tilted back and the membranes slid across his eyes.

He laughed breathily. “Are you…_tasting_ my come in the water?”

Eames focused on Arthur's face again and his cock started to slowly twist further in and Arthur groaned, relaxed from his orgasm but feeling little shocks where Eames was sliding past his prostate and now it felt like Eames was trying to reach his heart from the inside. He didn't know how much of Eames was in him or how much there was to go, all Arthur knew was that it felt amazing, and, even after coming once, he wasn't soft and he just wanted _more_.

“Fuck, Eames, _please_.”

The prehensile cock writhed and pushed and curled inside him and Arthur lost himself in the sensations, squirming as much as Eames allowed him to, his cock getting some friction between them, but Eames had the strength and the hold and the leverage and he was using Arthur's body to please himself, shifting his position and angle as he desired, watching Arthur tremble on his tentacular cock as he struggled to reach orgasm, moaning raggedly behind the diving mask.

And when Arthur was just gasping Eames’ name over and over, Eames let go of his chin and used one claw to draw a thin line under each collarbone, a pale tint of blood washing into the space between their bodies and Arthur finally came again, clenching down on the intrusion deep in him and shuddering in Eames’ grasp, his throat closing momentarily with the force of his orgasm. He felt Eames pulsing within him, drawing huge heaving breaths in, and Arthur knew he was taking in Arthur's blood and Arthur's come even as he filled Arthur, until Arthur was limp in his grasp and finally felt Eames shrinking and slipping out of him with little caressing motions against his insides.

They moved through the water and then he was lifted onto the platform, and he opened his eyes to see Eames up and bracing himself on the edge with one arm, gill slits fluttering a little out of the water, while the other pulled several towels over Arthur. The mask was delicately removed from his head and set aside and Eames leaned down to rub his cheek against Arthur's before pushing back and sliding into the water.

“Eames,” he murmured, reaching out and letting one hand dangle over the edge, fingertips in the water. He felt a cool body slide past and smiled and drifted off to sleep.

The rhythmic tread of footsteps along the dock woke him and he rolled to his feet, reaching for a weapon he wasn't wearing. Saito raised an eyebrow at him as he approached. Arthur glanced around the cavern to locate Eames and saw the long striped and finned body rising leisurely from the bottom.

Saito stopped in front of him, looking him down and up, and his eyebrow lifted again as he reached out to touch the long red scratches under Arthur's collarbones. A low, threatening hiss sounded from the water before he made contact, and Saito’s eyebrow hitched even higher as he turned his head in that direction.

“I suppose I should be flattered that you consider me a threat to your mate.” He very deliberately touched Arthur while maintaining eye contact with Eames, and Arthur pushed his hand away. Saito turned to look at him with a small amount of surprise and then he smiled. “As it should be, then.”

“Why would you test his reaction like that?” Arthur asked with a frown as Eames reached over the edge of the platform and wrapped a clawed hand around his calf possessively.

“Arthur, that he is this close to fully rational is utterly shocking. Until the sea releases him at the end of each year, he is, he _has been_, a barely reasoning predator. It is one of the prices he pays for his human life, and though he has almost always returned early, he has _never_ been this…in possession of himself.”

“I wondered why you warned me, earlier.” Arthur sat down on the edge and slipped his legs into the water, spreading them for Eames to rise up between them and rub their faces together. He submerged again but left his hands on Arthur's knees.

“I had expected to find you wounded in some dramatic way when Eames lost his control. But instead, he is calm, protective, and you are only decoratively marked. I am almost beyond words.”

“I like how you mention ‘almost.’”

Saito smiled upon both of them affectionately.

“I am utterly astounded, but I am also pleased beyond measure. Little fish, shall we play?” He shifted and leaped into the water over them, and Eames flipped backwards to chase him.

Arthur watched them for a couple of hours, laughing when one or the other would breach the surface or be tossed, marveling that the tangling of the two serpentine bodies didn't result in knots. They played Hunt the Wetsuit Shreds and raced for every piece, throwing them into a pile on the platform. Eventually Saito threw himself onto the platform, chuckling when Eames desultorily splashed water after him with his tail fins.

“He thinks he has won,” Saito snorted, coiling into a tidy heap next to Arthur.

Eames rose between Arthur's legs, nodding, then brushed his fingers against Arthur's mouth and laid his hand flat on Arthur's chest. Arthur leaned to kiss under his jaw. Eames held Arthur's face in both hands and touched their foreheads together, then sank back under and headed straight for the dark channel entrance.

“He will hunt for food,” Saito said. “And he knows that you need to eat as well. He will not be disturbed if you are not here when he returns, and he himself will take some time. Come, Arthur.” He changed to his human form and held out a hand, and Arthur reluctantly rose and left the cavern, blinking at the morning sunlight that greeted him at the top of the stairs.

Saito and his entire team went back down with him in the afternoon. Eames was coiled at the deepest part of the cavern, but rose to the surface when they stepped out onto the dock. Haru grinned and threw himself off into the water, shifting before he touched it, and then Arthur was privileged to watch a merman and a giant otter play water games.

Yukiko shifted and slipped in with great dignity, ignoring the splashing games around her to bathe her white scales with serene concentration.

Arthur was surprised when Yuuki shifted and jumped into the water with a yip for the chill, splashing Daisuke and Takeshi with flicks of his wet brushes, and was further surprised when Daisuke shifted on the platform and then rolled himself in, managing to temporarily swamp Yuuki with the resulting wave.

Even Takeshi shifted and trotted over to the edge to leap into the water, dog-paddling around with as much dignity as could possibly be wrung out of the situation.

Isamu and Asami sat together in the middle of the platform and talked quietly while watching the rumpus.

Saito laughed softly where he stood with Arthur. “It is a joke that badgers can swim but generally prefer not to. And Asami will bear him company as she also prefers not to swim unless necessary.”

When even the obake yōkai were tired of the water games and were draping themselves all over the platform to dry, Isamu shifted and waited at the edge. Eames rose gently, supporting himself up on his arms, and leaned forward to rub noses with the badger, allowing Isamu to scent him.

Asami crouched next to them and smiled at Eames. “Good to see you so lucid, prettyboy.”

Eames wrinkled his nose and gestured derisively to his face.

She snorted. “You know perfectly well that your Arthur and I share a lust for sharp things.”

“Yeah,” Haru said with a snicker. “Maybe you should stop fishing for compliments!”

Saito allowed the faintest flicker of pain to cross his face before Isamu calmly shoved Haru back into the water. “You may have him for lunch if he does not exit the water fast enough,” Saito informed Eames, who grinned and sped for the otter. Haru scrambled out and galumphed along the dock before swarming up the stairs, leaving wet splashes everywhere.

Arthur shook his head and settled on the edge of the platform again with his legs in the water. Eames swam over and wrapped around his calf, just under the surface, floating horizontally and rubbing his pelvic area against the bottom of Arthur's other foot, starting a slow and licentious side-to-side motion.

Saito raised an eyebrow and then bestowed a fond smile upon them both, gesturing everyone else out.

Eames barely waited for everyone to leave before tugging on Arthur's leg, urging him into the water.

“Let me get the compressor turned on…”

Eames shook his head and tugged gently again, so Arthur slipped into the water. He started to turn to face Eames, but Eames stopped him and put Arthur's hands on the edge of the platform, tapping them to indicate Arthur should hold on. Arthur looked at him over his shoulder and Eames rose up enough to wrap around Arthur from behind for a moment, nuzzling the nape of his neck. He slid down, holding Arthur's hips and parting his legs with his body, and pressed his pelvis up against Arthur's backside, undulating gently while holding himself at an angle underwater.

Arthur clutched the edge of the platform and let his head drop forward, watching Eames’ striped body ripple between his thighs and feeling the swell of Eames’ cock in its pouch behind the slit. His own cock jerked in response and began to fill, and Arthur moaned softly. Eames’ claws twitched, leaving scratches across Arthur's hips and thighs with faint trails of blood dispersing into the water, and Arthur felt Eames inhale deeply. His member emerged, already prodding greedily at Arthur's entrance and Arthur caught his breath as it twisted and writhed into him, Eames’ grip holding him still while his body undulated slowly, pushing the insistent organ even deeper and then hauling it back again with each crest and trough of his motion.

The prehensile cock resisted each withdrawal, curling and thickening against Arthur's inner walls, dragging against his prostate as it sought an interior grip. With each push, it eagerly reached further until Arthur wanted to press a hand to his abdomen, sure that he would feel the invasion of Eames’ organ below the layer of stomach muscle.

He didn't manage that; he was nearly drowning in pleasure and barely keeping his hold on the platform, lost in the lazy tidal surges. It felt like they rocked there for hours, their bodies entwined internally, intimately, as if Eames was claiming him, holding him, from the inside.

When Eames swept one hand forward to wrap around Arthur's cock, he came so hard his throat closed and he shuddered in choked silence, Eames quivering through his own orgasm inside him. When he was able to gasp in a breath, he found himself floating free of the platform, at the surface, Eames’ body supporting him from below, his hands carefully stroking over Arthur's stomach and chest, Eames’ cock shrinking but still buried insistently deep within Arthur, squirming lewdly as it reluctantly withdrew.

“_Fuck_, Eames,” he whispered hoarsely, beginning to shiver as the water stole warmth from his naked body.

Eames growled under him, claws leaving fine scratches as he held Arthur tightly. Then his hands relaxed and he lifted Arthur onto the platform, hovering fretfully as Arthur gathered some of the waterproof cushions and towels and wrapped himself in a thermal blanket on top of the makeshift bed. He let his hand hang over the edge and Eames twined his fingers with Arthur's.

“I'm fine,” Arthur said with a small smile. “I just need to warm up.”

Eames sank so that only his eyes showed above the surface, a frown marring the smooth skin of his forehead.

“Eames. Listen. That dick-tentacle thing of yours? Fucking _amazing_. Worth a little hypothermia, let me assure you.”

Eames’ eyes crinkled in amusement and he rose up enough to make a grabby-hand gesture to Arthur.

“Tablet?”

Eames nodded and Arthur reached back for one, handing it to him.

_U WANT ME STAY THIS?_

“Hell no. We’ll enjoy it while it lasts and then I want to be warm and dry with you for awhile. And let's face it, I miss your mouth.”

Eames nodded. _MISS THAT. MISSD U._

Arthur held out his hand again. “You know I don't really care what form you're in, I just want _you_, here with me.”

* * *

Arthur spent most of his time in the cavern with Eames, or working upstairs on his laptop for Saito when they took breaks.

Though Saito returned to Tokyo after a few days, there were always two of the guards with Arthur, though they mostly stayed upstairs. They did drag him away for daily training sessions, much to Eames’ amusement, and they made sure he ate regularly and slept.

Yuuki, on one of his rotations, took one look at Arthur, wrapped in towels and still shivering, and threatened to cut the ass and crotch out of a wetsuit if Eames didn't start fucking him faster. He slung Arthur, protesting, over his shoulder and carried him upstairs to tuck him under an electric blanket with a pot of tea.

When Arthur came back down later, he hauled on a thick wetsuit before he slipped into the water, and met Eames’ dismayed embrace with a chagrined scowl.

“Yuuki says the next time he finds me like that, he's telling Yukiko and letting _her_ handle it.”

Eames hissed, but ducked his head, looking away even as he held Arthur tighter.

“Hey,” Arthur said. “I know I'm the only human around here, but I'm not _delicate_. You know that.” Eames refused to meet his eyes. “Eames.”

When there was still no response, Arthur pushed away to glare at him, holding the edge of the platform so he didn't have to tread water while he had this discussion. “You didn't think I was delicate before all this. You used to sing paeans to my competency and propensity for violence. Your own goddamn _words_, Eames.”

Eames reached for him and Arthur held out a hand, stopping him at arms length, feeling months of conscientiously suppressed frustration rise up. “I get enough of that perspective from the obake, no matter how careful they are to hide it. But you _know_ me, you've worked with me, you've fought beside me for years.”

Eames growled and flourished his clawed hands, bared his teeth, sent a ripple down his body that spread his venomous fins in a flashing display.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “So you only consider me dangerous when you're in human form?”

Eames blinked, shook his head, reached out for Arthur again, but Arthur swung himself up onto the platform, unzipping the wetsuit as he rose to his feet and turned his back. Eames grabbed his ankle, and Arthur stopped, but didn't look down.

“Let go,” he said quietly.

Eames rose up and wrapped both clawed hands around his leg, tugging gently.

“You need to let go right now,” said Arthur, still quiet, but with a brittle undertone.

Eames hissed and yanked him backwards into the water and then embraced him tightly, keeping Arthur's head at the surface and tucking his face down against Arthur's chest, arms crossed behind Arthur's back.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenched, and forced himself to remember that this was _Eames_ and he was _here_, and it had been almost a year and he didn't know why he was so angry all of a sudden.

He brought his arms around Eames’ shoulders, pushing the irritation away. “Sorry. I don't think we're even arguing about the same thing, are we?”

Eames shook his head.

“I'm sorry. I was angry and probably misreading what you were trying to tell me. I don't know why I reacted like that.”

Eames rumbled against his abdomen, holding him tightly. Approaching footsteps made him open his eyes.

“Probably because I persist in treating you like a kit,” Yuuki said as he walked out onto the platform. “For which, I apologize, Arthur.”

Arthur gave him a glare from the shelter of Eames’ embrace. “Apology accepted. I suppose there's a certain issue of perspective there, considering I _am_ approximately one-tenth your age.”

Yuuki grinned. “Nicely pointed out.” He squatted at the edge, resting his arms atop his knees. “We do consider you quite terrifyingly competent, in case we have not properly expressed it. For example: you regularly defeat Haru in sparring, and I have had to resort to illusion the last few times to avoid a similar fate. I dread the day you learn those patterns enough to predict me without actually seeing me. Takeshi has begun to smile when he spars with you. Isamu teaches you techniques he will not teach others. Daisuke does not hold back his strength. Neither you nor I will likely _ever_ defeat Asami or Yukiko, but both are pleased with your skills.”

Arthur gave him an even look. “Thank you.”

“And you accept praise as graciously as ever,” Yuuki teased. “Also, I suspect a certain amount of tension resulting from the difficulty with staying in contact with each other right now. The waiting to resume your life as you desire would wear on anybody.” The kitsune gave him an affectionate smile. “Oh, and Saito says to inform you he will arrive tomorrow afternoon.” He nodded at them, rose, and strode away.

As Eames turned his attention to peeling Arthur out of his wetsuit, Arthur wondered what his desired life looked like anymore, aside from having Eames back.

* * *

Arthur woke on the morning of Eames’ birthday, wrapped in towels on the edge of the platform, hand dangling over the edge and fingertips in the water. Eames was playing with them but Arthur could barely feel it through the cold-induced numbness and water-swollen wrinkles.

“I’m not going to miss the hypothermia,” he murmured, wriggling his fingers stiffly to warm them.

Eames emerged enough to rub against his hand and give him a half-guilty look, lifting Arthur’s arm to place it gently on the platform surface before ducking back under.

Arthur smiled softly. “Eames. Today is your birthday.” He could see the full-body ripple that passed through Eames, all his filmy black spines flickering.

Eames rose to the surface again, reaching for the tablet that was always left at the edge. _HNGRY_. _GO WRK_. _BBS_.

Arthur sat up and chuckled. “I’m assuming that means ‘be back soon?’ How are you more conversant with Internet slang than I am?”

He was rewarded with a full grin and then Eames flipped backward and sped out through the channel.

Arthur sighed, tired of waiting, tired of being patient, and pulled on clothes to go work upstairs.

Saito's residences were as well-equipped as any safe house Arthur had ever stocked and Saito's guards routinely included potential attacks in their trainings.

So, even though Arthur was deeply immersed in researching a possible line of financial threat in the upstairs office when the tear gas grenades broke through the windows upstairs, he and Isamu both dove for gas masks and comm earpieces and set the rest of the emergency procedures in motion without delay.

Yuuki met them in the hallway, similarly masked, and tossed Arthur a kit. “Lights are off in the cavern below. Here's thermal-imaging gear and a nice assortment of weaponry. Eames is out hunting?”

Arthur nodded. “He'll know something's up if he comes back and the lights are out. And he'll have no problem with the darkness.”

Isamu growled, a noise Arthur had never heard him make. “Take your laptop, go downstairs, hook Yukiko into the security system. Saito is on his way here, might be ambushed.”

“If any make it downstairs,” Yuuki added, tapping the guns, “we don't need prisoners.”

Arthur nodded again. “Understood.” He slung the kit over his shoulder and navigated the stairway while strapping on the thermal vision goggles.

There were a few fish-shaped signatures in the water, but nothing big as Arthur headed for the concealed nook high in the cavern wall above the stairs. It would provide thermal cover and a nice sniper vantage point. While he had time, he tied his laptop into the security system to get eyes on their attackers and gather info for Yukiko. He knew a signal had gone out from the emergency system, but it wouldn't have any immediate information.

Once in place, he said quietly, “Tear gas attack, Eames clear, Isamu and Yuuki masked upstairs and I’m masked in the cavern. Security system link sent.”

“Got it,” Yukiko replied. “Leaving car_.”_

“Multiple squads_,”_ Isamu said from inside the house.

Arthur nodded to himself, monitoring the cameras.

The attackers were human, and moved like humans, not obake or any other form of yōkai he had studied. They were dressed and geared up like professional soldiers but not identically. So, potentially mercenaries rather than military, or at least using that as cover. No insignia of course, but… Arthur scowled as he observed the men, scanning the small force. Some thirty of them, and…the one off to the side was familiar. If he'd just turn…

“Possibly mercenaries,” he said. “Maybe three squads, led by Gregor Vasilyevich. Possibly here for Eames or me.”

“Personal?” Yukiko asked.

Arthur scowled at the screen. “Never just. Combines business and pleasure.”

There was a pause, then Yukiko replied. “Saito says keep him. Kill all else.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, and Isamu echoed him.

_Jesus, Eames_, Arthur thought. _Someone gave Gregor an excuse to come after you, after all_.

Gunfire started upstairs and Arthur watched a handful of the slower mercenaries drop before they reached the shelter of the house. Gregor was, of course, not one of them.

He followed the fighting through the house, seeing Yuuki and Isamu take wounds a few times that didn't seem to affect them much, but gave them the opportunity to reduce the attacking force.

A flicker of motion caught his eye inside the cavern, but when he searched the water, he found no significant thermal signatures. Arthur smiled to himself; Eames was back and aware of trouble and waiting in the channel.

He closed the laptop and then there were men coming down the stairway. He was aiming down at them when Eames, barely registering as a thermal hit, glided out of the tunnel along the bottom and made a quick and huge splash with his tail at the far end of the cavern before arrowing underneath the platform. The idiot mercenaries wasted ammunition shooting at the splash and Arthur picked off several in the fuss, watching them topple into the water and not return to the surface.

When the remaining men turned to find the source of the shots, Eames glided under the dock and pulled another two off, dragging them under the platform. When the men fired into the water, Arthur picked off more of them.

The remaining handful retreated to the bottom of the stairway, out of reach of the water and sheltered from Arthur's line of fire. He heard whispers and then more movement on the stairs.

“Arthur. I know you have the rifle. Eames isn't the sharpshooter you are.” Gregor’s voice sounded raspy and tired.

“It was a mistake to come here, Gregor,” Arthur replied calmly.

“Maybe. But the explosive device I'm holding says I still have some options.”

Arthur stared out over the water. A decent-sized explosion here in the cavern would not only collapse it, but likely take out the entire house above. Eames wouldn't be able to outswim the shockwave and Arthur had no survivable way out either. “And what is it you want, Gregor?”

“Well, what _I _want is Eames’ balls and heart, but there is nothing new about that. Old business for us, yes?”

Arthur sighed loudly enough to be heard. “He didn't kill your brother, Gregor.”

“Old argument, too. Why don't you come out and let's talk about it elsewhere?”

“You want Eames dead and me alive?”

“That would be my ideal outcome. Arthur, I am getting impatient. We will not leave here alive without a hostage and so you and I may as well die quickly and on my terms, yes?”

“Eames isn't here.”

“Hah! But if I have you, then eventually I will have Eames. Is that not so?”

There was a faint splash at the back of the cavern and then silence.

“I wonder what oddities Saito has penned up in here. Could he be collecting monsters?”

Arthur said, very dryly, “Is that why you're here? Like calls to like?”

“Arthur, Arthur. Come down to me now and I promise you will eventually leave my hands alive.”

“Jesus _Christ_, Gregor. You going to make me breakfast in the morning, too?”

Gregor barked a laugh. “Don't count it a kindness of mine. My employers wish to talk to you and they are not people I am able to refuse.”

“I wondered who had the power to stir you from your territory.”

“And you will have to wonder a bit longer. Arthur, come down now or I kill us all. Surely the alternative is better. After all, as long as you are alive, there is always a chance, yes?”

Arthur glanced over the water once more. “All right, Gregor. Yes. Let's get out of this particular death trap.” He felt a pang of relief when he saw Eames’ long shape darting towards the channel entrance. At least he'd be safe. “I'm coming down. You want the lights on?”

“If you would be so…” Gregor broke off as the lights came up. “Saito’s resources are vast. He must pay well, to have your exclusive services these days. Or does he have something on you? Will you be glad to be beyond his reach?”

Arthur climbed down slowly and turned with his hands out, empty. “It's funny that you think there's much beyond Saito's reach.” He eyed Gregor, noting the device is his hand, his thumb pressed firmly against it.

“Ah, but he's an excellent businessman. Surely he knows when it is too expensive to reach for something? Come here, Arthur. You will allow yourself to be searched, and I would not recommend an attack, by you or anyone else. I must keep constant pressure on this little device.”

Gregor’s men weren't gentle when they searched him, but Arthur breathed through the rough handling and watched Gregor. The mercenary looked on with a small strange smile, almost fey, and Arthur felt his anxiety tweak up a little. Gregor, when pushed, responded unpredictably, often out of proportion to the initiating event. That was one reason he'd gone unchallenged so long in his territory.

The remaining four men looked to Gregor when they'd finished searching Arthur and he nodded. “We will walk out very sweetly, two before and two after, and Arthur and I will walk in between. There will be no one in sight and no one between our exit and our vehicles.”

The men nodded and they all ascended the stairs in order. Arthur saw no indication of Saito or any of the guards on the way. They paused in the front entrance and moved on when it was obvious there was no one visible on the grounds. Halfway across the grounds, Arthur felt his hair ruffled in a stray wind, only registering a faint Aeolian sound when Gregor straightened. Arthur was already moving before he consciously comprehended the source, taking the gun from one of the men behind him and shooting both, then spinning to shoot the two men in front. He turned to Gregor and found the man staring at Asami as she finished coalescing from her kamaitachi form and stepped backwards, the device and Gregor's hand, neatly severed with the thumb still in place, in her grip.

Arthur stared at the stump of Gregor's wrist. The sudden amputation itself didn’t trouble him much; the lack of bleeding and visible bone was the disturbing aspect. There was a slight seepage of something sap-like and his wrist looked more like a cut tree limb. Arthur stepped backwards as Gregor shook himself and grew taller, his clothes shifting to a combination of shaggy fur and pine needles, his hair and beard turning twiggy, his eyes taking on a deep coruscant green light. His wrist budded and unfurled into a new hand and he gave Arthur a grimly amused sidelong glance.

“Leshiy!” Saito snapped, striding out from around the side of the house. “You are far from your forests, tree-beast, and here without leave. You will explain yourself.”

Arthur studied each of his clan as he moved to stand beside Saito. No one seemed to have any remaining serious injuries, though there were scowls in abundance. He mentally reviewed what little research he'd done on Slavic supernatural beings. A leshiy was some sort of forest guardian, unpredictable and dangerous but not necessarily inherently malevolent. Shapeshifters, of course. Known to seduce maidens, though that was said of almost every creature he'd read about, which spoke more of human prejudices than actual fact.

“Saito,” Gregor hissed. “I thought my government bold for demanding use of the supernatural folk. What hold do you have on those of your own country?”

Saito regarded him levelly for a moment, then shifted to glare down at Gregor, his dragon eyes flickering with a hot coppery glow. “I await an answer, leshiy.”

Gregor stared at him, jaw open. “Of course...” he whispered. “That explains so _much_.” Then he drew himself up in affront, an action Arthur had only ever read about, had never seen in real life. “But we are _forbidden _from interfering in the human world!”

“Which explains why you bring a mercenary troop across international borders to attack a prominent international businessman,” Yukiko said wryly. “Oh, wait...”

Gregor scowled at her. “I came for vengeance!”

There was a distinctly unimpressed silence and Gregor’s scowl progressed to thunderous proportions as his eyes kindled and flickered with an eerie light. “For the shedding of the blood of my kin, I claim right of combat.”

Saito regarded the leshiy for a long moment before nodding. “We will take this discussion inside. Yukiko, is the house clear?”

“Clear of all the bodies, though not tidy.” She glared at Gregor’s smirk.

“Perhaps our guest will forgive the disorder, considering the circumstances.” Saito gestured to the entrance.

Gregor waved a hand in a magnanimous gesture. “You may consider any lack of hospitality to be preemptively forgiven.” He strode forward as if he were visiting royalty and not a captured enemy.

Of course Saito led them to the cavern below. Arthur almost wanted to laugh at their expressions when Eames lifted his head and he and Gregor saw each other for the first time. They both blinked and then Gregor lunged for the water, only to be stopped by Yukiko’s sleek dragon form.

“_A_ _vodyanoy_?” Gregor bellowed. “A miserable little frog fucker killed Kolya?”

Yukiko cuffed him on the side of his head. “He is no more a vodyanoy than I am a multi-headed zmei, you miserable little shrub fucker.”

Eames hissed and flipped backwards in the water, the entire length of his gleaming finned body following the same arc in a twist that displayed every inch of his magnificence. Arthur straightened with a small smile as he watched Gregor gape.

“But…but this can't be Eames. This is a triton. One of the seafolk.”

Saito let out a small sound of amusement that had Gregor’s immediate attention. The leshiy advanced on him but only made it two steps before everyone but Arthur shifted out of human form.

Gregor paused, scanning around, then held his hands in the air. “Will you do me the courtesy of explaining?” he bit out, glaring at Saito.

Saito coiled himself neatly, taking his time to settle just so before turning to regard Gregor. “Eames has the favor of the sea.”

Gregor growled. “Then he must shift back so I may kill him for killing my brother.”

“He didn't kill Nikolai,” Arthur said impatiently. “I did.”

Gregor roared. “You _lie_!”

“Your brother had Eames captive, in human form, and was questioning him. Well, torturing him, really, since your brother was more of a fucking nutcase than even you are. I broke in and shot him once in the right hand as warning, again in the left knee, and then finally in the right eye when he wouldn't stop, and retrieved Eames. But your brother was human. He bled normally and he never shifted.”

“_You_. _You_ killed Kolya…”

Arthur frowned. “Gregor, catch up, please.”

The leshiy dropped down to squat on the platform, hands covering his head as he tucked his face between his knees.

Arthur spared a quick glance at Saito, who wore a rare perplexed look. Takeshi, his wolf form bristling slightly, padded forward, sniffing at the twiggy lump. Gregor lifted his head to stare eye to eye with the wolf, then slung an arm over him and pulled him into his mossy, shaggy embrace. Takeshi yelped as the long arms wrapped around him and Gregor mashed his face against Takeshi’s neck, mumbling into his fur.

“He is thinking it over,” Takeshi said hesitantly, eyeing the leshiy sideways as the creature stroked his fur. “He is grateful that a familiar friend of the forest is available. He truly wanted to kill Eames because he is such a staggering prick.”

Takeshi listened more and then growled, and pushed away from Gregor, hackles up again.

The leshiy raised his head and stared at Arthur, green eyes glowing, and pointed a long arm and sharp finger. “But though I have no personal history with you, Arthur, I will tear you to pieces for the death of my half-brother.”

Eames pushed himself up on the edge of the platform and there were various growls and hisses from around them, but Arthur raised a calm hand.

“Gregor. Let me tell you what would happen if you tried. I re-armed myself coming down here, so I would simply shoot you. If that did not kill you, I would push you into the water and let Eames drown you. Or I would set you on fire.”

Gregor roared and made as if to get up and Arthur shot him in the knee. There was silence after that.

“Your brother has been dead for years and he was insane. Even you have to admit that,” Arthur said evenly.

Gregor scowled fiercely.

“Now _you_ are not entirely insane,” Arthur continued, “as far as I can tell. So if you would like to leave this cavern alive, there are two requirements that you must meet. I require you to give up this thing you have against Eames. And I require you to go back home and mourn your brother and fucking well move on. Can you do those two things?”

Gregor bared his stony teeth at Arthur and slowly rose to his feet, towering over Arthur. “You, a human, dare to dictate terms to me?”

Arthur sighed and shot both of the leshiy’s knees. Gregor dropped to the platform, roaring in fury, and Arthur aimed at his eye, waiting.

“You are _allowing_ this? This _insult_ to the supernatural world?” Gregor demanded of Saito, clutching his knees as the holes closed over.

Saito raised a cool eyebrow. “Arthur is a member of our clan and therefore _of _the supernatural world.”

Gregor gaped at him, stared wildly around at the guards, then started laughing as he held his head.

Yuuki came over to lean on Arthur's shoulder and watch the leshiy. “Are you offended enough to start shooting again?” the kitsune inquired. “Because I think I might be.”

Arthur sighed. “His forest probably needs him. I would hate to make an ecologically unsound decision out of pique.”

Eames did his rasping laugh and Arthur glanced at him, then stepped over to stand next to the edge. Eames reached up and wrapped a clawed hand around Arthur's leg, his thumb stroking along the back of his knee.

Gregor stared, his laughter having died away. “Oh. _Oh._ Gods and demons.”Arthur glared at him and Gregor held his hands up. “No, it is that you are _not_ simply colleagues.” His glowing eyes flashed brightly and then dimmed and softened, and his form shrank down and became fully human. He stared at Arthur's face, searching his eyes. “Did you already love him when you came to rescue him from my brother?”

Arthur remembered that stab of panic and dread when he'd discovered who had Eames and took a steadying breath. “I did.”

Gregor turned to stare down at Eames. “Did you love him before he came for you, triton?”

Eames stared back and gave him a jerky nod.

“And did he know what you were,” Gregor asked softly, “when you declared yourself to each other?”

Eames clasped Arthur's leg harder and very slowly shook his head.

“It didn't matter,” Arthur said, resting his hand over Eames’ and giving him a little push. Eames glanced up at him and let go to submerge for a moment, taking in several deep breaths before rising high enough to wrap around Arthur from behind. Arthur smiled over his shoulder. “Now I'm wet, and I'm going to end up wetter, aren't I?”

Yuuki stepped forward to take the gun from Arthur's hand and Arthur blushed faintly, the tips of his ears pink, but he leaned back into Eames’ embrace, closing his eyes as Eames held him and lifted him gently from his feet to sink backwards into the water. Eames kept them floating at the surface horizontally, Arthur laying on his back on Eames’ chest, their fingers entwined where their hands lay on Arthur's stomach.

Gregor sighed deeply, then turned to Saito. “You know he gave himself up to me so that the triton would not be killed by an explosion in the cavern.”

Saito inclined his head, watching the blush creep up Arthur's skin.

“Or anyone else in the house,” Gregor added thoughtfully. “It is so easy to forget there is good in them.” He sighed again, staring into the middle distance. “As well as great evil.”

Arthur stirred himself to glare at Gregor from the shelter of Eames’ arms. “You’re hardly one to talk of great evil.”

Gregor made a scoffing noise. “What does a little human know of…” He roared as Yuuki shot his foot. “What the shitting _hell_!”

“You would be gravely mistaken to think of Arthur in those terms. I encourage you to reconsider your conception of him and perhaps you will find yourself less surprised in the future,” Yuuki said calmly.

Haru laughed so hard he fell off the platform into the water and even Yukiko had to turn her face momentarily. Isamu coughed and kept his hand covering his mouth, Daisuke and Takeshi turned their backs, and Asami shook her head, an amused flicker crossing her face.

Arthur nodded with a smile as Eames grinned widely behind his head. “Yuuki, you are officially redeemed.”

Saito’s expression remained serene as Gregor turned to him in annoyance. “Have you given up your vengeance?” he asked, great copper-brown eyes watchful.

Gregor snarled. “I should pursue it despite your clan?”

“_Leshiy_.” Saito’s voice was a rumbling growl that Arthur felt in the water halfway across the cavern.

“Bah!” Gregor threw his hands up. “I give up my claim to vengeance on Eames! Though he was blood, my brother was a madman. I wanted an excuse to skin Eames but since he did not commit the deed...”

“And Arthur?” Saito asked dangerously.

The leshiy grew shaggy and huge and leafy again and stomped around in tiny circles, muttering to himself in an ancient guttural language Arthur didn’t recognize.

“_Leshiy_.”

Gregor stopped moving and his shoulders sagged. “He loves and is loved,” he whispered. “I am an old fool and refuse to fight against that primordial force. I renounce all claim of my brother’s blood.” He spun in place, growing suddenly so that his twiggy head brushed the cavern ceiling, and pointed at Arthur and Eames. “But do not set foot in my forest again!”

Eames hissed, arms tightening around Arthur, and Arthur stared at the immense leshiy calmly. “It wasn’t vengeance alone that moved you from your territory,” Arthur said. “Why don’t you tell us about the leverage your government is using to stir you out, years after your brother’s death.”

Gregor stared at him and then burst out laughing again, shrinking down to a more manageable height. “Fire and plague, Saito, what did you do to acquire this...this...jewel of humanity?”

Yuuki’s hand shifted on the gun restlessly and he glanced at Arthur, who shook his head.

“Don’t be so hasty, fox face,” Gregor snapped. “That wasn’t an insult.”

Saito sighed. “An answer, leshiy.”

Gregor dropped to the platform again, curling his arms around his knees. “They threatened my forests,” he said quietly. “Fire and defoliants, poison and radiation. Villages to be bombed, roads destroyed, rivers re-routed.”

Takeshi stepped forward again, nosing at the shaggy shoulder and a mossy arm carefully settled over his back.

“There are a handful of wolf packs living in my forest,” Gregor murmured, turning to bury his face in Takeshi’s fur. After a moment, he lifted his head to glare at Saito. “I could do nothing but obey. Those men were all military, sent to _escort_ me safely here.”

“But _why_?” Haru asked, appalled.

“Someone high up knows of the existence of my folk. They have leverage against those of us tied to the land. They wish to have proof of other folk in other places and what might be used against them.”

Yukiko straightened. “This cannot stand,” she said to Saito.

“No,” Saito sighed. “We are being forced to take steps, which is likely part of their plan.”

“It is,” Gregor said miserably into Takeshi’s fur. “And I must report back or my forest will be destroyed.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak and found his teeth chattering. Eames hissed and swam back to the platform, where Isamu and Haru waited with warm towels and a thermal blanket.

Asami stepped forward with hot tea as soon as he’d been stripped, dried, and wrapped. Arthur grimly took the tea and sipped it, glaring at the cup. “It seems to me,” he said, self-conscious and cold and cranky about it, “that there can’t be that many people who know and have enough power to do something with the knowledge.”

“Perhaps,” Gregor said, eyeing him sidelong.

“You may know people with the expertise to find out information. You may also know people who can eliminate identified threats.”

Gregor blinked. “Dreamsharers and assassins.”

“Exactly.”

“This...would not be a quick project. Or a cheap one.”

“Would it be worth it for the security of your folk?” Arthur asked with an eyebrow.

Gregor scowled absently as he considered, but his shoulders no longer sagged.

“It is something that should be discussed,” Saito said smoothly. “Gregor. Come upstairs and allow me to ruin your taste for your traditional vodkas.”

Gregor nodded and glared at Yuuki as he stomped past the kitsune with the gun. “I suppose you've done something silly like make it from rice or some such nonsense.”

Arthur watched them all go as he began to consider the requirements of such a project, possible locations, supplies and suppliers, contacts and links and complications and backup...

Eames prodded the back of his calf and Arthur smiled down at him.

“I’m not saying we should be involved, but it is a fascinating job to consider.”

Eames gave him an entirely too knowing look and tugged gently at his ankle.

Arthur sat cross-legged at the edge and gave Eames a little poke. “Go under, you masochistic merman. Or are you practicing holding your breath for when you have a mouth I’m not terrified to stick my dick into?”

Eames grinned at him, terrifying dentition on full display, and sank under the surface.

Arthur leaned to trail his fingers in the water and felt the cool slip of textured skin and then scales against his fingertips as Eames drifted under them. “I’m having a hard time waiting for the sea to let you go. We have a lot of catching up to do when you can talk.” He smiled as Eames drifted to a halt with his pelvis directly in contact with Arthur’s fingers and writhed suggestively. “Well, you’re not wrong, we _should_ take advantage of the hentai tentacle-porn opportunity while we still have it. I don’t care if I get cold.”

He rose quickly and flipped on the compressor switch, grabbing the mask and stepping off the platform into Eames’ embrace as he rose from the water to meet him. Eames let them sink below the surface, the water closing over Arthur’s mask just as he fastened it in place.

Arthur wondered briefly what had been done with the bodies of the mercenaries since there was no trace of them in the water, but when Eames started slicing his clothes off him, he decided he didn't really care. He let himself be turned with his back to Eames’ chest, spreading his legs widely as fabric drifted away on the current, Eames’ hands on his hips keeping him anchored against the swelling push of Eames’ organ past his genital slit. Arthur's head tilted back to rest against Eames’ shoulder, his hands on top of Eames’ hands, and Eames began a slow aching undulation into him that had Arthur moaning into his mask as he was lovingly invaded.

Eames wrapped his hands around Arthur’s and held them against Arthur’s hips, holding him in place and keeping Arthur from touching himself before driving into him with an urgent rhythm, coming with a shudder, his cock squirming and pulsing inside Arthur.

“Eames!” Arthur gasped, opening his eyes. A swirl of gold filled his vision and he felt the hot press of Saito’s scaled skin against him. The sudden heat almost drove him over the edge as the dragon coiled around them both and Arthur found himself weightless and restrained between Saito’s warm scales and Eames’ cool skin, the press of the two keeping him immobile while Eames’ member began moving again deep inside him, building into another urgent pace. Arthur twisted between them as he hung, impaled and desperate, bound and helpless.

Warmth and chill striped his skin and Eames came a second time deep in him, liquid heat inside him and Saito’s hot coils fettering him outside, and the purring vibrations of Saito’s hum vibrating through him, punctuated by the pricks of Eames’ claws as he held Arthur’s hands still at his sides.

He was barely conscious of begging, writhing as he sought his climax, and finally, _finally_, he felt Saito’s silken skin move across his cock as a coil shifted and he pressed desperately against the soft scales and came twitching, clenching around Eames and crying out as he felt Eames come yet again, filling him and claiming him, Eames shuddering behind him and holding him tightly as if he and Arthur were drowning together.

Arthur moaned in protest as Eames’ cock slowly slid out of him and Saito loosened his coils long enough to allow Eames to turn Arthur around and pull him into a tight hug. Then they were drifting, a strange and weary trifold knot, and Arthur, eyes closed in contentment, heard Saito murmuring to Eames as he brought them all to the surface and gracefully rolled them onto the platform.

“The year is up, little fish.”

His mask was snatched off and then Eames was there, _kissing_ him amid Saito’s coils, and he laughed raggedly and ran his fingers over Eames’ face and held onto him, feeling their legs tangle and Eames’ breath on his skin and then Eames gave him that perfect crooked grin.

“Darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> The [Hoshinoya Tokyo](https://hoshinoya.com/tokyo/en/) is on my list...
> 
> I have played it fairly loose with the descriptions of my OC supernatural critters and will likely continue to do so with others if this continues into a series. GO READ THE ORIGINAL STUFF! FROM EVERY CULTURE YOU CAN GET YOUR HANDS ON! And if you know of any good stories or beings that need to be folded into an Inception AU, please drop a comment :)
> 
> Yeah, so I'll admit there’s now more of this AU bubbling around in my head than I ever thought there’d be. More stories on the horizon, dammit. 
> 
> ———-
> 
> Yōkai - supernatural creature  
Obake - shapeshifter
> 
> Kamaitachi - sickle-wind, sickle-weasel, Asami  
Kawauso - otter, Haru  
Kitsune - fox, Yuuki  
Mujina - badger, Isamu  
Ōkami - wolf, Takeshi  
Onikuma - bear, Daisuke  
Ryuu - dragon, Saito, Yukiko
> 
> Leshiy - Slavic forest guardian  
Zmei - Slavic dragon, often multi-headed  
Vodyanoy - Slavic water spirit


End file.
